#in front of the council that he's ready for the trials

[kenobky]

i read a bit from master and apprentice some time ago and i don't get how the author and apparently many others from what I've seen around here went from the seemingly easy comradery between qui-gon and obi-wan in the phantom menace to qui-gon having to consciously make an effort to not judge and criticize obi-wan unfairly

[sp1d3rpu7k]

What ultimately gets me every time about Star Wars(including the Star Wars Jedi Apprentice series) is how much Obi-Wan suffered throughout it all, as well as his destiny of infinite sadness. From before he had even become a man, he was fighting for the light and for good and it backfired in every instance. He worked hard as an initiate to find a master to take him on, but was ultimately unsuccessful until Bandomeer where Qui-Gon finally decided to take him. He did his best to be a good padawan and still follow the will of the force, especially once Melida/Daan happened and he chose to stay with the Young to help them fight. He still ended up leaving the order and breaking his bond with Qui-Gon to stay and help the Young. But Cerasi still ended up dead anyway and so he went back to the Jedi. We also know that Obi-Wan had a mission on Mandalore when he was still a padawan, where he was assigned to protect Duchess Satine Kryze, and where he consequently fell in love with her. Obi-Wan himself confirmed that he would have left the order(again) and chosen to stay with Satine if she had only asked him, but she never did. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed that happiness or love. Then later Obi-Wan has to watch Satine be murdered by Maul right in front of him as he is helpless. He had to watch as Qui-Gon freed Anakin from slavery and decided to take Anakin on and thrust Obi-Wan into the knighting trials when he was clearly not ready. Obi-Wan had to watch as Qui-Gon dropped dead from Maul’s killing strike while protecting him and Anakin that same week. Obi-Wan had to promise to Qui-Gon to train Anakin, a challenge that Obi-Wan was in no way prepared or ready for as a freshly padawan-turned-knight. Obi-Wan had to suffer through slavery on Zygerria with Rex, an experience where he became severely injured and suffered immensely from both his physical injuries and the mental and emotional injuries of witnessing the other slaves hurting too. How about the Rako Hardeen mission? Obi-Wan had to do what the council(and the chancellor) asked and follow through with the mission, changing himself bodily and suffering mentally in the process. Obi-Wan was harassed over the mission and the fact that he did not inform people of the mission prior. Yet he was only doing what he had to- an undercover mission where the details HAD to be classified. How about Anakin’s betrayal? Obi-Wan had to watch as the boy he RAISED and loved like his own son or younger brother fell. Watched him turn so dark that he had to put him down. Obi-Wan had to force himself to do what needed to be done to keep Anakin from taking any further harmful and murderous actions. Obi-Wan had to deal with the fallout of his SON falling hard to the point where he slaughtered the jedi younglings in cold blood and turned away from everything Obi-Wan had taught him. Obi-Wan had to help Padme through her pregnancy and then urgently rush to find them good homes where they can be raised safely away from their father. Obi-Wan had to suffer through Order 66 and watching his men that he cared deeply for turn on him. Obi-Wan had to witness the chaos of Jedi masters and knights and padawans dropping one after the other from the betrayal of the clones(since the Jedi did not know of the inhibitor chips at the time- making it even more heartbreaking for them). Obi-Wan had to exile himself on Tatooine after everything that had gone down, withering away in both appearance and spirit. And then, he had to die, die by being killed by his own ex-padawan- his son.

[bittersweetsadboi]

So I've not watched a single episode of House of the Dragon, but I had dream that confused me and had me giggling uncontrollably. Rhaesaria never leaves my mind apparently.

I shall tell it in story form. Enjoy.

(Rhaenyra is busy looking for Dragon Riders via bastards like in the show but Vermithor does not claim any of them.)

With every group or person brought forward Vermithor rejects them. It's gotten to the point where he doesn't even kill them anymore.

He just huffs and lurks back into the shadows or turns his attention to the balcony where the Queen, Mysaria, Jace and any Guards or councilman stand watching in growing exasperation at his stubbornness.

Rhaenyra is gently banging her head against her desk trying to figure out what to do as their options dwindle with every trial.

"I had known Dragons to be specific in their choice of rider but not like this." Mysaria says softly as she slides a folded article of clothing under the Queens head, effectively ending her self abuse, though the head of white hair remains bowed on it.

"I do not understand, we have tried every drop of dragon seed, low and high born alike." Comes the Queens muffled reply.

"He does not even find them worthy enough to burn or eat. Instead he turns to us as if offended." Jace grumbles from his seat in front of the desk.

This has become a familiar scene. The three of them in the library or council room or the Queen' study, plotting and scheming. Though as of late it's more Mother and Son grumbling while the Mistress of Whispers paces silently, mind working overtime.

"There are still a small number of bastards that await their chance at being chosen, there is still hope." Mysaria says, stopping beside Jace as the Queen lifts her head.

"Have your Whispers gotten back to you about the others?" Jace asks, looking up at Mysaria with eyes so much like his mother. Curious. And intense.

"They have. A smaller group is traveling from further east." Mysaria answers.

"It is less likely that any of them will be claimed than those here on Dragon Stone." Rhaenyra states, staring blankly at the desk.

"Less likely, sure, but not impossible." Jace states, making his mother look up at him.

He gives her a gentle smile, one she can't help but return.

"Your confidence in this has remained steady in all this." She says, proud.

Jace nods his head in acknowledgement, glancing up at Mysaria who also smiles down at him, a small one, almost unnoticeable.

"Yes well, it's best not to lose faith now. We must remain hopeful, even if the odds are against us. You will claim back your throne, Mother. No matter how long it takes. I trust in you and our cause." He says, sitting straighter, chest puffed and voice strong.

Rhaenyra almost cries at his declaration, looking to Mysaria, who's eyes shine with the same devotion in her son's words.

Despite all this though, in the next few days and serval tries later, Vermithor also remains steadfast in his stubbornness. Still refusing to claim any riders. Even Silverwing had claimed someone at this point.

With the guards escorting the last of the group of bastards out the dragon pit, Rhaenyra marches herself down to where Vermithor waits. Jace and Mysaria looking at each other, shrugging.

The Queen gets right up in front of the Bronze Fury, almost puffing out smoke herself as she squares up at him, eyes a flame in frustration.

"I have brought every bastard and high born of dragon blood out from under every rock and still you refuse. What is it that you look for then? Is no one good enough?" She all but yells in frustration at him, not at all fearful, knowing that he won't harm her.

Instead he puffs out smoke at her, making her throw her hands up. He growls softly, shifting his big head slightly.

She turns to him, ready to vent some more when she sees his attention somewhere else. Following his line of sight, she turns to see Jace and Mysaria now joined on the balcony by Beala, serval nobleman and their guards.

Frowning, not really understanding his seeming fascination, she shakes her head and turns her heel. Clearly she has other things to do.

The next day a nobleman tries to claim Vermithor, and is unsurprisingly unsuccessful. Again, the Queen makes her frustration known. Again he ignores her and watches the balcony.

On the third try of this endless cycle Rhaenyra is close to tears, almost begging Vermithor to claim someone, anyone at this point. Still, he refuses and watches the balcony.

She stares at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"What is it that you want?" She asks, almost a whisper.

Vermithor turns to her, looking her in her eyes, before turning back to stare at the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns as well. This time it's only Mysaria and Baela, who are watching with concern. The Queen frowns, looking back at the bronze giant. Then back at the balcony. Confused, feeling like she's missing something. She never gets the chance to figure it out as she's called for a meeting.

Day turns to night and the Queen is unable to sleep. Pacing her chambers. After about half a candle mark of this she takes to stalking the halls, before finding herself in the dragon pit once again.

Vermithor seems to have expected her, as he waits where she left him. She doesn't speak. She just looks at him, hoping he could just tell her what it would take to get him to cooperate.

He moves in closer and she puts her hand on his head, feeling his warmth, taking comfort in it.

"I am sorry." She says softly. He rumbles in acknowledgement.

They stay like that for a while before something seems to catch his attention. He lifts his head and, once again, watches the balcony.

Rhaenyra turns her own and her eyes find a lone figure resting against the balcony wall, watching them. Glancing between the figure and the Dragon, the Queen finally figures it out.

The next day Rhaenyra bursts into the library where Jace and Mysaria are bent over serval parchments.

They look up and frown at the Queen's sudden entrance and the clear excitement on her face, lavender eyes shining with a new found hope.

"Mother?"

"Your Grace?"

Rhaenyra strides up to them, Blood humming.

"I know who is to claim Vermithor." She says before grabbing them both by the hand and dragging them through the castle halls to the dragon pit.

Jace and Mysaria share looks of confusion and shock, unable to even speak as their Queen leads them.

Once reaching the pit, Rhaenyra pushes open the large doors and there, The Bronze Fury waits, seemingly also sharing in the Queens excitement.

Jace and Mysaria look around confused, not seeing anyone else around. They thought at least this person the Queen claims to be Vermithor's potential rider would be here as well.

Rhaenyra slides up to them, more specifically her Mistress of Whispers, gently taking her hand in her own, her other cupping a soft cheek and looking her in her chocolate brown eyes.

"Do you trust me?" She asks, voice softer than it's ever been.

Mysaria blinks in shock, mostly surprised by the Queen's open display of affection. Usually it's reserved for when they're alone.

"Of course." She answers, just as soft.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly and starts to slowly lead the dark haired woman towards the Dragon.

Jace breaks out his daze, still reeling from seeing his mother's fondness for her Lady clear for all of Westros to see. Not that he didn't know already. She only ever smiles like this when in her presence.

He steps forward and halts them in their advance, grabbing firmly on their interlocked hands.

"Have you lost your mind!" He says, glaring at his mother who looks at him in shock. A look mirrored by Mysaria.

"Jace-"

"I understand we are desperate but to just sacrifice anyone!" He says, enraged and forcefully breaks their hold on each other, stepping forward so Mysaria is behind him.

Rhaenyra stares wide eyed at her son's protective stance as he regards her. His eyes filled with confusion and something akin to betrayal.

"Jace I-"

"Just because he has not set anyone aflame in as many weeks does not mean he won't suddenly start again with one who is not of Dragon blood." Jace says cutting her off.

Rhaenyra stares as he looks her dead in her eyes, voice stronger than she's heard in a while.

"If you truly must attempt this trail, fine. But I beg of you Mother, choose anyone else. Not her." He's voice breaks slightly at the end, stepping back so he is closer to Mysaria, as if to emphasize his point.

This seems to break Rhaenyra out of her shock as her face softens. She smiles at her brave boy.

For some time now she has seen how Jace has gravitated towards her secret love. First it was small talk in the halls, then it was joining them in the library after council meetings.

Much like she had, he has started seeking Mysaria's council and even comfort when his mind won't let him rest.

Many times she has seen him, and even Baela, talking softly with Mysaria in the library.

Seeing the gentle smile the on Lady's face as she watched the young couple bicker. Giving them ideas for what to do to strengthen their relationship, and even the future wedding they wish to have.

More often than not, Jace and Baela would seek Mysaria's company, much like they would with her.

Rhaenyra looks behind her darling boy at her beloved. Apparently she was the only one who noticed all this if the absolute bewilderment on Mysaria's face is any indication.

Before anything else can be said, a deep rumble comes from behind her. She turns to look at Vermithor, who shifts impatiently, huffing as his eyes bore down at them.

Turning back to her son, who has not moved an inch from his place, she steps forward and cups his face.

"Believe me, my darling boy, I would not even think of doing this if I was not absolutely certain no harm would come to her." She tells him honestly.

He looks at her with tears in his eyes, not convinced.

"It's madness. She's not of Dragon blood. How do you know he will not hurt her or worse?" He asks, more like the young baby boy who used to sit in her lap when he was upset, rather than the brave man he has come to be.

Glancing behind him, Rhaenyra catches Mysaria's gaze, who's eyes ask the same question.

"Because he has already chosen her." She says completely serious, completely sure.

Mysaria's eyes widen, glancing between Vermithor and the Queen. The Dragon, almost as if to prove her point, bows his head slightly, eyes never leaving Mysaria.

"That's why he never claimed anyone else. He already has a rider. One he watched from a distance, waiting for her to claim him as well." Rhaenyra continues, looking back at her son.

Jace's mind runs through every trial and every interaction his witnessed and finally understands what his mother means.

Every time Vermithor has watched the balcony, there was only one common denominator in every pair or group of people that stood and watched back.

Mysaria.

He turns his head back, to look at her, as if seeing her for the first time. She looks at him, not entirely sure what to make of his expression.

Vermithor, tired of being ignored, huffs in annoyance. They turn to him and he tilts his head, trying to see around the Mother and Son who keep blocking his line of sight on his apparent chosen rider.

Rhaenyra turns back to them. Looking at Jace now.

"Do you trust me?" She asks.

Jace swallows a lump in his throat as he looks between his mother, the dragon, and the Mistress of Whispers.

He gives his answer by reaching back and taking Mysaria's hand. Then taking his mother's. Then he joins their hands and steps back, eyes still shining with tears.

Breathing a sigh of relief and gratitude, Rhaenyra looks to Mysaria, who remains silent as she nods her consent.

The Queen slowly leads Mysaria to Vermithor who eagerly waits. Once they're close enough, he moves his giant head closer until he's but an arms length away.

Not even waiting for any command or anything, he rests his head on the platform before them, eyes gazing deep into Mysaria's, seemingly ignoring Rhaenyra altogether.

She's almost offended but she gets it.

Mysaria stands frozen as she gazes down at this hulking beast. She has seen him burn and eat people with no mercy and yet here he is, like a puppy waiting for head pets from his favorite person.

Glancing at her Queen, who gives her and encouraging smile, she steels her nerves and slowly steps forward.

Lifting a hand, she rests it on his head and a sudden calm enters her bloodstream. Her body vibrating with the deep rumble of contentment she feels pass along the dragon.

Emboldened, she moves closer, resting her other hand on him, running them along his warm scales as he huffs softly, enjoying the attention.

Rhaenyra smiles brightly, happy and in awe as the two embrace the bond. Syrax's own cry of triumph heard in the distance.

Jace let's out a breathless laugh as he stares in absolute shock, a tear falling from his eye, running his hands through his curls, bewildered.

He looks around, still processing until his eyes land on the balcony where Baela stands frozen, eyes wide and jaw hanging. He chuckles and turns to make his way to her, excitement and new hope humming in his veins.

Once there, she turns to him, filled with questions. He answers as much as he can as they watch the trio in the pit.

Rhaenyra and Mysaria talking softly, arms around each other as they shower Vermithor in affection.

Baela let's out an all out belly laugh that has Jace raising an eyebrow at her. She just smiles smugly, eyes on pit.

"Father will die once he finds out."

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Chapter 10

Pairing: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: slow burn, explicit content, mild violence, character death

Description: There are only so many excuses a master and padawan can make to kiss under "extenuating circumstances" before circumstances stop arising and start being created. You are an expert at your craft - a Jedi knight in service as a spy for the Republic. When your former master Obi Wan joins you on a mission, it's clear things aren't the same as they once were. The trials you face together may break your bond, or turn it into something else entirely.

☆☆☆

Several years ago, in the gardens of the Jedi temple on Coruscant...

"Please, Master. Be honest."

His eyes seem to snap back into focus when the tone of your voice goes up at the end of the question. He'd been looking at you, you realize, and you don't know for how long. The way he reset his posture before answering, he'd almost seemed... uncomfortable? On edge? You can't quite place it. Perhaps, you think, he senses your uncertainty. Your weakness.

With each second that passes before he responds, your anxiety increases. He shifts on the bench, sliding his gaze to the foliage in front of him, a whisper of a smile on his face.

"Often I am told," he says softly, "that these final days before one's padawan completes the trials are celebratory. Peaceful and reflective..."

You widen your eyes a bit and tilt your head, expectant - knowing he's feeling the tension of you staring at him without needing to look in your direction. But he does, eventually, turn to face you, dropping the act of the put-upon master.

"The council believes you are ready. They would not have asked you otherwise."

"That's not what I asked."

He holds your gaze. "I know you will pass. I have every confidence in your abilities."

You break eye contact. "Thank you. But that's not exactly what I asked, either."

He gives you a wry look. "Then perhaps you could clarify precisely what question I'm answering?"

You're tugging a loose thread at the end of your sleeve, hands in your lap. "Do you truly believe I'm ready?"

Your fingers still, stopping their fidgeting when you force yourself to look at him again. "Is it not normally the master who approaches the council when a padawan is ready for the trials? Isn't it unusual for the council to make a request like this?"

His brows raise in acknowledgement, and he nods slightly. "It is indeed unusual. But these are unusual times. And you possess a unique gift. The council does not make these decisions lightly."

"You still haven't answered my question."

The corners of his bearded mouth tip up into a melancholy smile. "Whether I believe you will pass or that you are ready may be two different questions, but my answer changes nothing. As Jedi, we have a responsibility to protect life and serve the Republic. You have been called upon, and if you are capable, you must answer." His expression becomes more sincere. "And you are capable."

You try to mirror his smile, but your stomach is upside down. "I understand."

You watch another pair of Jedi as they stroll through the greenery in the distance, seeming to take much more pleasure in their surroundings than you presently are. 

Silence hangs between the two of you, and it's a kind of silence that's never been there before. You're on the precipice of something, and it's not just the trials. Something about him in this moment is different. It's in the way he's looking at you; the way he hesitates before answering. He's not just thoughtful, or pensive. It's something else.

But then, something has changed in you, too - ever since the council shared those fated words.

You venture another question, your voice even quieter this time.

"Once I'm... no longer your padawan," you begin haltingly, "is it still permitted for me to seek your guidance, if I need it?"

As you tense your shoulders in anticipation of his answer, he just offers another smile. "You have my guidance whenever you are in need of it."

His words might have brought you comfort, if he'd left it at that. But he goes on.

"Even if I were to fall in battle tomorrow, the lessons I have passed on will always remain, as a part of you." He places a hand very gently at the side of your shoulder. "The teachings of generations of Jedi are within you. You need only ask for guidance, and you shall always have it."

He's rarely this affectionate, and it forces the rest of your words to stay wrapped up tightly inside you. It seems ungrateful, now, to ask whether you can still bother him for tea and meditation.

You bite back the question you'd really wanted to ask - the one that had been on your mind ever since your first discussion of the trials: Even when things were different, would you still be a team?

You pull your mouth into a tight smile that lacks the proper strength. All you can do now is nod.

Then, you do as he's always instructed - as you always have - and reach out into the force, releasing your feelings.

"Thank you, Master. You're right. I am ready."

--

Several years later, approaching the Separatist outpost on Asar-2...

"Are you alright?" Obi Wan asks after your second sigh permeates the silence in the cockpit.

The closer you get, the more reality is setting in, and you're struggling to hide it. Your initial thought is to lie, but it occurs to you that you're both in too far at this point to turn back. You tell the truth.

"I'm nervous."

A beat passes. He flips a couple of switches and you can't be sure whether he's silent in response to your answer, or just because he's concentrating on flying the ship. You squirm, just slightly, but enough for Obi Wan's muscles to stiffen. Yet again you have to remind yourself to stay still, and more words tumble out of you.

"The time pressure, and what's at stake... If we don't..."

"Commander," he interrupts you softly. "You have made your decision. Now you must be at peace with it."

This silences you. He's correct, as he usually is. And after this morning's heated discussion regarding your part in the mission, you can't have expected him to comfort you.

But he does anyway.

"There is no emotion; there is peace," he reminds you, his voice decidedly calm and even.

All at once, everything - the noise in your head, your buzzing nerves, the tense air that surrounds you - all of it begins to fade. The familiar mantra leaves your lips in answer to him. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge..."

You finish the lines, and he helps you, murmuring the words just behind yours, as he moves a gloved hand here and there to keep the ship on course.

"There is no death," you complete the last line slowly. "Only the force."

There is no death...

"We'll be landing in a moment. Remember, we approach from the West. That means landing South and walking over that ridge, there." He gestures through the windshield and your eyes follow. "You'll need to deactivate the lateral thrusters for me. I can't reach them with you sitting like this."

He points again, to a switch just above your knee. You lean forward. "Alright. Just tell me when."

His breath is shortened, his voice strained when he answers. "Thirty more seconds."

You shift between his legs, only now feeling how the curve of your ass is pressing up against him. You move again, trying to sit forward and away, but it's impossible in the small space. You only manage to grind up and down, over the fabric covering his lap.

You keep your head tilted down, blinking rapidly in embarrassment and trying to keep your focus on the switch, listening for his instruction.

"Almost," he says tightly.

You nod in response, reaching out to rest a finger on the switch, and the slight movement of your back makes his legs tense.

"Now."

You reach all the way forward, flipping the switch. The combination of your movement along with the ship's rapid loss of speed presses you hard into his lap, your left hand involuntarily gripping his knee.

You arch your back, trying to get away from him, cheeks flushed with heat, and you can feel him suck in a sudden breath.

"Stars," he whispers, so softly, so seriously.

But you must have misheard.

Because if he had said that, in that voice, against your neck, you wouldn't be able to hold it together. And you desperately need to hold it together right now.

So you definitely misheard him.

The ship sets down without another word passing between you, and you quickly exit, nearly bursting out of the cockpit when the latches release. You hop to the ground, feet skidding across the metal fuselage and dropping into powdery grey dirt. With your back turned to Obi Wan, you let out a long-held breath and center yourself for the challenges that await.

When you turn around, straightening the creases of your uniform, you watch him switch on the R4 unit, instructing it to stay onboard the ship and pilot back to base if discovered. He'd had it powered off for the inbound flight, presumably to limit the number of detectable electronic devices on approach. You could swear the beeps in response to his instruction are a bit haughty - the little droid almost seems indignant at being left out of action and expected to catch up quickly. It brings a smile to your face. Droids take after their masters, they say.

Turning back to you, Obi Wan brushes his palms briskly down his stomach and tugs at the sides of his uniform. Then he raises his wrist. "Captain Shrike, we've landed. Heading to the entry point now. Status?"

"No changes, sir," comes the modulated reply. "No sign they're aware of a communication interruption with the remote base."

"Very good," Obi Wan replies, turning to follow you as you begin to make your way up the ridge, but your feet slow when he calls after you, "Just a moment."

He catches up, reaching a hand to the back of your collar.

"There," he says, untucking the curled fabric. You try not to think about your jacket collar crumpling under his chin when he'd pressed it against you, or his beard scratching across the nape of your neck. You also try not to notice that your clothes smell like him, now.

You do notice the way his eyes don't match the tenderness of his touch. His gaze is hardened and distant at the same time. You squint, trying to read his expression, and tilt your head just slightly when you can't.

"What is it?"

He blinks. He seems just on the edge of saying something, and you can almost see it disappear from behind his lips when he decides against speaking. He glances in the direction of the listening post. "Nothing. Let's get going."

He doesn't give you the chance to ask again, restarting the hike over the ridge. You walk a few paces, and as the sight of the Separatist station comes into full view, your moment of doubt is swiftly put behind you. Years of training surface all at once, and the instant you set foot into enemy territory, your body no longer holds any space for uncertainty. You won't lose your focus, because you can't. It's as simple as that.

As you walk, you consider the clone captain's update. There wasn't any indication they knew of Storne's infiltration. Additionally, there was no indication he was successful in disabling the extra security measures. But no one, including you, cares to acknowledge that part.

If he's disabled backup communications to the base in orbit, the only danger lies in what's in front of you. If not, the moment something is reported out of place, it could trigger an alarm that would bring down ray shields faster than you could hope to jump out the nearest window. You may be marching into a death trap, and you won't find out until it's too late. All you can hope is that the plan is working as intended as you approach the main security checkpoint.

The imposing metal walls of the outpost reach high above your heads, jutting up dramatically from the bleak, rocky surface of the moon. There are no guards posted at the front, not even droids, which is to be expected. It's not as if you're on an inhabited world. Still, it gives you an eerie sense of apprehension to walk up to a blank wall without a hint of what's on the other side.

You find yourself falling naturally into a more military gait as you get close, Obi Wan in nearly perfect lock-step with your stride. When you reach the main entrance, a set of heavily armed blast doors, you pull out a key card from the interior pocket of your uniform. Obi Wan tugs at the front of his cap, straightening it as he watches you. If you didn't know better, you would read his expression as uncertain; almost nervous.

You let out one last breath before the plunge. "Ready, Commander?"

He turns to face the door, smoothing his expression as you swipe the card. "Let's not keep them waiting, Lieutenant."

The scanner emits a low beep, and the blast doors open. You step inside to a secondary checkpoint, this time meeting with a human guard. Your shoulders stiffen as you present yourself for check in.

"Code cylinders, please."

You get the impression from the woman's delivery that the 'please' wouldn't be there if you weren't a higher rank than her. You reach again into the interior pocket of your uniform, fingers brushing the lightsaber tucked there, and produce your code cylinder, handing it over. Obi Wan retrieves his from the blaster holster hanging from his side.

The security guard glances up as she slides the first cylinder into the computer's interface socket. "Are we under inspection, sir?"

Obi Wan wraps his hands behind his back, waiting patiently, almost looking a bit bored with the process. "Not formally, no. There are some upcoming personnel transfers in this sector. We're here to review the last six months of transmissions and determine the necessity of this outpost's crew numbers."

She finishes the first upload, removing the cylinder and handing it back to him, then loads the second one. "We just had a transmission review nine rotations ago. You're inspecting them again?"

He raises an eyebrow, just barely. "Yes - I recall. There were some details that weren't included in our last inspection."

She looks up from the data screen. "You did the last inspection? I don't see your code in our records."

Your jaw tightens. Obi Wan has been an unquestioned Jedi war hero for too long, it appears. He's forgotten what it's like on the lower levels of military rank, still subject to so much scrutiny.

"We were provided the records after the inspection," you interject. "But the commander found the data... lacking."

Her mouth quirks to the side. "I can assure you, any reports from this post include all requested records. I can provide you any copies you may need."

You'd hoped to avoid conspicuous use of the force this early in the mission, but you can see it's becoming unavoidable. Perhaps, though, you can use the situation to your advantage.

"I'm curious," you begin, making a show of flicking your eyes down to her badge number. "Are all of your personnel so insubordinate?"

Her eyes widen. "Insub-" she trails off in shock, darting a half-frantic, half-insulted look over to Obi Wan. "Sir, please inform your lieutenant that I was only-"

He raises a hand. "You will address the officer speaking to you."

You give a reserved smile, just bordering unprofessional. Glancing behind her, you can see a few heads turning in your direction at the raised voices. Good.

"Ma'am, I only meant that-"

You stop her short again. "As the commander has already said, the data was lacking. Now, tell me, are you calling him a liar, or just illiterate?"

From the corner of your eye, you catch a tooth escaping Obi Wan's lips in the beginnings of a smirk, before he drops his jaw back into place, rigidly fixing the security guard back under his stare. Not for the first time, you're reminded that while he has many strengths, controlling his expressions isn't one of them.

"I beg your pardon?"

The guard's voice has reached a new level of volume and looking around, you can see you've achieved your goal of drawing enough attention. Time to put an end to this.

You lean in, lowering your voice. "That's enough. Calm down."

Her face twists into a combination of confusion and indignance. But she does as you instruct, and stays quiet. You reach down in front of her and remove your code cylinder from its socket. Then you let the force flow through you as you say your next words.

"This is an unlisted inspection - well above your pay grade. You’ve done your duty, and I commend you on your adherence to procedure. I assure you, your diligence will be rewarded once we've completed our reports."

Your eyes stay trained on hers as you impart your thoughts into her mind.

I do my tasks as instructed. I will be rewarded with a well-deserved promotion.

Often rather than changing someone's mind, you can redirect them toward another strong emotion with more success. This time proves to be just as successful as the rest.

Her gaze becomes a little duller as she slowly looks from her data screen back up to your hand, which is tucking your code cylinder back into your pocket.

"Your cooperation will be noted," you tell her, not giving her time to respond as you stride through the narrow doorway that leads into a wider control room, filled with monitoring stations, droids, and soldiers. Obi Wan gives the guard a curt nod and follows you into the bustling room.

There's no time to pause in the doorway to catch your breath. You immediately step to the side, letting Obi Wan, your commanding officer in both fiction and reality, take the lead again. As you make your way across the main floor to the turbolift at the back, you cast your eyes and your mind around the two of you, glad to find that your gambit was well-played. The rest of the soldiers in the immediate vicinity seem to be making a point of minding their business.

It's a trick you've used often - getting confronted and being let on your way by one individual is much better than convincing a large group. Most people have very little interest in doing their jobs. They simply need to appear as if they are. And once you're confronted in public and cleared, no one else has a reason to concern themselves with you. Now, all you have to do is maintain that disinterest.

I'm not concerned with what anyone else is doing.

You radiate this thought as you walk behind Obi Wan to the turbolift, avoiding eye contact with the pair of security guards talking amongst themselves as they patrol.

You give yourself a moment to catch your breath once you've stepped on board the turbolift and the doors have closed. Glancing over to Obi Wan, you briefly lock eyes before you turn to stand beside him in silence. His chin is jutted upward, shoulders back and down, looking every bit the Separatist, even when out of direct sight. You mirror him, knowing the turbolift - and probably every square centimeter of this outpost - is likely under surveillance.

When the doors open again, your breath catches. You knew the base had a significant number of human crew, but you hadn't expected quite this many. There must be a full platoon on this floor alone, in different modes of work behind desks and stations. Several dozen pairs of eyes glance in your direction, and you instantly lock into your role as Obi Wan leads the way forward.

I'm busy. I have a lot of work to do. I'm not interested in what others are doing.

It's becoming strenuous, pulling the weight of so many thoughts and emotions at once, but it's nothing you haven't dealt with before. You keep your focus and allow the force to lend you its strength. Before you realize it, you've reached the door to the comms center, having been following Obi Wan in a nearly trance-like state. He takes out his key card and you plead to the force that it works. Your intel sources were good enough to get you into the base. Hopefully they won't fail you at this critical point.

To your immense relief, the keypad beeps and flashes green. The door slides open, and just as you're about to enter, a voice calls out from a few feet away.

"Sir? Excuse me?"

You tense, frustrated with yourself for your momentary distraction. You'd let your concentration drop just for an instant when watching the keycard swipe.

Obi Wan turns around to face him. "Yes?"

"I'm sorry, sir - that area is restricted to level six officers only."

Obi Wan's face remains neutral. "That's quite alright. I am a level six officer."

While still maintaining your connection with the rest of the nearby personnel, keeping them disinterested, you turn your direct attention to the mind of the officer in front of you.

He is a level six officer.

The young man's eyes drop to the insignia plaque on Obi Wan's chest. He answers slowly, as if having trouble putting his thoughts together. "I, er, thought..."

Your mind is torn, keeping the dozens of soldiers behind him complacent while also trying to send a very specific thought into an unwilling mind. Either task on its own is manageable, but holding both at once is almost physically breaking you down. Your breathing is labored, a thin line of sweat beginning to dampen your hairline.

The young man stares at you. He's left you some room to work. He's still uncertain. You repeat the thought over and over in your head, envisioning it radiating directly outward.

His glazed eyes squint, still looking at your uniforms. "...thought only generals and above were... level six."

He is a level six officer.

Obi Wan regards him with something akin to annoyance, possibly disdain. It's a look you've seen on the face of many a superior officer in Separatist command. "Your thoughts are of little interest to me."

He turns back to enter the comms room again, and the young officer reaches for him, not actually touching him, but blocking his path with an arm.

"Sir, I think you should come with-"

You let go of the thoughts of the surrounding officers and direct all your efforts onto this one.

I have no authority here. I'm uncertain and afraid. I need to let them go.

His face drops, and you catch Obi Wan glancing up to the rest of the room. A couple of pairs of eyes are starting to pull in your direction. He seems to realize what's happening and raises a hand in concentration.

"You will let us on our way."

You feel Obi Wan's presence in the force radiating a little brighter. The uncertainty on the young man's face evaporates and he turns and begins walking in the opposite direction, leaving you behind.

You slip out of the young officer's consciousness and turn your mind back to the rest of the room, redirecting their attention to their tasks as you step into the comms center and close the door.

As the door slides shut, Obi Wan immediately begins searching through stacks of data tapes, and you take a moment to extricate yourself from the half-meditative state you're in, taking in a shaky breath. You want to thank him for stepping in, but it was risky enough for him to blatantly use the force, saying his command out loud. You don't know how many droid systems are monitoring your every word.

You try to quiet your panting breath as you look around the room. Folding your arms behind your back, you try to play your part as a Separatist lieutenant for any cameras currently watching.

The minutes pass in tense silence as he inserts and removes data tapes from the computer terminal, listening to each one with a headset held to one ear. He pages through screen after screen of information and suddenly, more quickly than you'd expected, he jerks up from the station, dropping the headset. He brings his wrist to his mouth, speaking in a low voice.

"Captain Shrike, do you copy?"

"Yes, General, go ahead."

Obi Wan's eyes meet yours as he speaks, and your heart is in your throat.

"The transmission was intercepted, but they were unable to decode it. Report back to the main fleet: The attack will go on as planned."

For a brief moment, you feel the immense weight of the mission leap from your shoulders, held aloft by the turn of events. It feels like it's been ages since anyone's had any good news in this war, and you hadn't realized until now how desperate you were to finally hear some.

"Roger that, sir. Sending the transmission now."

You can't help your smile as you turn to follow Obi Wan back to the door. You quickly activate your own commlink, raising it up. "Captain, has Storne made it back out yet?"

"No, Commander. He's on the fourth level."

Your brows furrow, and you look up at Obi Wan. He gives you a blank look in return, as if to say he doesn't know about the change of plans, either.

"Do you know why?"

"No, sir," he responds to you. "He's been going up level by level. I thought-" His voice is replaced with the crunch of static, and you catch the end of his statement. "...ut it wasn't."

You bring your commlink closer by reflex, knowing it won't make a bit of difference in the signal. "You're cutting out. Say again?"

"...can't... el... either..." More static.

"Captain Shrike, do you copy?"

There's a long pause before he comes through again.

"... packing up base." His words are mostly garbled, and then one phrase gets through clearly. " ...I've got a visual on the ship."

Obi Wan's head snaps to the side, his gaze suddenly tense. "What did he say?"

"What ship?" you press.

"Can't hear... -th. ...try to- "

Suddenly the unmistakable sound of an explosion bursts through the speaker. An ear-splitting electronic squeal pierces the air and you jerk the commlink away from your face. You're reaching to turn it off when the screeching ends. You lift it back up.

"Captain?"

Silence.

"Captain, do you copy?"

You send a wide-eyed glance over to Obi Wan, your voice tightening. "Shrike?"

Nothing.

Obi Wan's mouth opens for a moment before he speaks, as if he's finding the right words. "There could be interference."

You blink. You lower your arm. "Right."

You turn to the door, knowing that commlinks don't just stop working - interference or not. Your signal was scrambled intentionally. And that sound...

"We should get moving. The longer we're without communication the more dangerous this becomes."

"Right," you repeat, voice hollow.

The door clicks open again and Obi Wan steps through it without hesitation, slipping seamlessly back into character. You follow suit, blanketing your consciousness over every solider in your immediate vicinity. You make your way back to the turbolift, thankfully seeing fewer officers in the area this time.

In fact, the room seems almost empty compared to the bustling activity you'd seen earlier. You cast your consciousness out a little further, trying to feel for the missing soldiers, and you find them - guarded, seeking, hostile.

You open your mouth to speak as Obi Wan pushes a button to activate the lift, pulling back his fingers just in time for a spray of sparks to erupt from the control panel, blaster fire searing across the surface.

You both whip around, then immediately duck as more blaster fire fills the air, pouring relentlessly out of two hovering security droids, which are closing in fast.

"Intruders located, level fifty-two."

Obi Wan pulls his own blaster, firing back as you punch at the buttons on the lift, quickly realizing the panel won't respond. You duck and dodge, turning down the nearby corridor to find another way out. The droids pursue, one sent spinning off to the side when Obi Wan's blaster bolt pierces its metal.

You're fighting the urge to reach for your lightsaber. Right now you're just a couple of Republic spies, which is why he's chosen to use the blaster. You've agreed not to reveal yourselves to be Jedi unless absolutely necessary. But you certainly wish that Lieutenants were allowed to carry blasters outside of combat zones.

As you turn the corner, a sickeningly familiar sound approaches - the rolling bodies of droidekas. Peeling into view, they raise their twin blasters and light up the hallway with lasers concentrated on your annihilation.

Absolute necessity arriving much more quickly than expected, your hand grips your lightsaber, ripping it out of your clothing and blocking several shots all in one fluid motion.

"Well, I'd say that's our cover sufficiently blown," Obi Wan remarks, casually illuminating his own lightsaber and dual-wielding it between returning blaster shots.

"Did you have another option I don't know about?" you grit, slicing through the air to bat a laser away from your face.

He spins ferociously and sends a double volley of blaster fire straight back at the remaining security droid, dropping it to the floor. "No, Commander, but perhaps next time you'll consult me before altering the plans. Again."

You raise an eyebrow, caught off guard by his tone, but unable to respond before human voices start to echo down the hallway, and your retreat turns into an all-out run. You take turns covering the firestorm behind you as you barrel down the hall, turning whichever way looks most like an exit. Obi Wan veers off into what looks to be a maintenance hangar, and you follow closely.

"I didn't exactly-"

The air around you suddenly shimmers, engulfing you in a rippling cylinder of light. You both skitter to a stop, hands pulling up to avoid touching it.

Ray shields surround you. It's not unheard of, using them on such a small scale, but it's definitely a surprise to see one set up as a trap. And you now realize the droids were driving you straight into it.

Training a weapon pointlessly on you, a human Separatist officer enters the room flanked by droids on either side.

You keep your lightsaber at the ready, knowing there's nothing you can do to pierce the shields, but hoping against hope that someone will be foolish enough to lower them.

The man sneers at you as he approaches. "Might as well put away your weapons, Jedi. They're of no use to you now."

Neither one of you moves an inch, the low hum of your sabers filling the quiet room.

"Oh, we're quite comfortable, thank you," Obi Wan responds, his voice mild but his eyes deadly. "Though I am curious about your plan. You must realize as soon as the shields are lowered, you'll need to finish the task of disarming us. A task at which, so far, you've been less than successful. "

Grinning, the man leans toward the pulsating shield. "Your concern is appreciated." He meets Obi Wan's gaze steadily. "But not to worry. I'll leave that task to Count Dooku."

You freeze, suppressing the urge to look over at Obi Wan in shock. Out of the corner of your eye, you see his hand tighten slightly on the hilt of his saber, but he says nothing more. Not missing a step in his pace, the officer circles you as if observing animals in a cage, then makes his way back toward the doorway.

"He'll be here momentarily. Don't go anywhere."

The door slides shut and the room goes dark, save for the dim maintenance lights in the distance, the swirling glimmer of the ray shields, and the lightsaber you're now gripping to the point of pain. You push the pressure sensor, extinguishing your blade, and drop your defensive stance to turn and look at Obi Wan.

"Dooku..." you breathe the name, looking around as if it could summon him.

Obi Wan's lightsaber still glows between the two of you, his stare penetrating the darkness as he looks past you. "Yes, I can feel it. He's here."

You don't know if he's responding to you, or just talking to himself. You calm your racing thoughts and try to focus. And then you sense it. A dark, malicious presence. A clear signature.

"Why would he be here? How could he have known?"

Several beats pass in silence. He drags his eyes from their distant stare to place them directly on yours. Then his blade collapses into the darkness. It's much quieter in the room, now, and he doesn't need to raise his voice above an icy breath to be heard.

"I should think that much would be obvious."

You dip one brow, again confused by his tone. His words hold the same edge as they had earlier, but you can't place where it's coming from.

"Not to me," you invite his explanation.

"We've been betrayed," he says lowly. "He has an informant."

When your expression goes slack in surprise and you're clearly looking at him for more, he answers your unasked question with a carefully controlled mask of calm. "Your friend. Storne."

You pull your head back in disbelief. "What?"

He sets his jaw, slowly and quietly continuing. "This mission was kept secret from everyone but the most necessary operatives. He is the only one that hasn't been completely vetted, and the only member of this mission whose whereabouts have been unknown for extended periods of time leading up to now."

You shake your head, at a complete loss. "It isn't possible. You don't know him."

"Apparently, neither do you," he quips, a little too quickly.

You can see the immediate regret on his face. But the damage is done. He softens his voice, adding, "He's a mercenary."

You step a little closer in the already small space between the ray shields. "I do know him. He's not as much a mercenary as he is a con artist. Who... kills when he has to. He isn't capable of doing something like this."

"Look at this from a logical perspective." He speaks over your last few words, staunchly refusing to let go of eye contact. "On Oba Diah - the bar where he sent us to get information... did we ever get the information? How were we discovered?"

"Any number of Black Sun members could have reported us."

"And on Keoth," he continues. "When he came to our aid - how convenient for him to be tracking our transponder."

You shake your head. "What possible reason could he have for saving our lives and then handing us over to the enemy?"

"An informant would have every reason to keep us doing the Republic's bidding. The more of our activity he could report, the more we would be worth to him."

You drop your gaze, unable to look at him and speak at the same time. "I would have sensed his deception."

"I'm certain he would have kept his motives well hidden."

"Not from me." You snap your head up. "People can't hide their true intentions from me."

You're staring at one another, and you take in a breath, then let it out. "Obi Wan, I know he wouldn't do this. I've worked with him for so many years. I've known him even longer than that. I'm not asking you to trust him. Just to trust me."

His steeled blue eyes are still fixed on you. He looks as if he's fighting not to look away. "I trust that you will do what you believe is right." And then he does look away. "My faith in your judgment is... another matter."

You're speechless for a moment, stomach wrenched. "My judgment?"

Several long seconds pass before he speaks again.

"When we were on the ship, Storne mentioned a specific time when he seemed to know exactly where we would be. It wasn't discussed during his briefing, and yet, he knew." He pauses, watching for your reaction. "How did he know?"

Your chest is pounding. "Because... I told him. Because I sent him the details of the plan while we were enroute."

"So you don't deny it?"

Although you're nearly shaking, you manage to keep your words steady. "I work in secrets. I know the value of classifying information. But I also know the value of a well-informed team. The captain was instructed to keep the plan compartmentalized, but if Storne needed to escape, or to help us escape-"

"Do you realize you could be arrested as a traitor?"

Your face is heating in frustration. It's like your words aren't even reaching him at this point.

"I told you, on my missions, sometimes I need to bend the rules to get things done. You taught me to follow my instincts."

"I did not teach you to disobey direct orders."

"No, but you taught me to use my own strengths and trust my own judgment. The captain is bound by chain of command to protect classified information. I would never get approval to share it." You hesitate before continuing. "Just like I often don't get approval from the council for certain aspects of my missions. If I'm going to be considered a traitor for getting results, they should have arrested me years ago."

"This isn't a joking matter." His voice cuts sharply through the forced lightness in your tone.

"I know. I'm aware of what's at stake," you say, dropping all your false bravado and letting the earnesty come through. "That's exactly why I knew we couldn't afford to leave Storne in the dark."

"And look where it's gotten us," Obi Wan bites out, his calm expression finally breaking. "Where are your senses? Blindly trusting-"

"It isn't blind trust!" You match his growing tone. "It's rational, well-earned knowledge."

"Your judgement is clouded, young one." His voice holds a dangerous edge which he's never directed at you before. "This mission was doomed from the start - a mission you were never meant to be directly involved with. There's every chance we have just sent thousands of soldiers to their deaths."

His words settle in your stomach like lead, poisoning your bloodstream. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain what's left of the slipping grasp you have over your emotions.

"I-" you croak the syllable, interrupted by an opening door.

A heavy, commanding voice puts an abrupt end to your conversation.

"Obi Wan Kenobi."

Your head is still reeling from your argument, but you no longer have time for emotion. As Dooku approaches, the huge maintenance hangar suddenly seems like a much smaller room.

Your lightsaber is lit again, back in your hand, your arm raised before the rest of your mind can catch up to your reflexes. You watch as he paces slowly up to you, and you sink deep into the force to let go of your inner turmoil.

Dooku's chin is held high as he inspects you. "And the young apprentice. How... unexpected."

He turns back to Obi Wan with a glint in his eye. "We can end this swiftly, my friend. For your padawan's sake, I hope you choose the right path."

Obi Wan's eyes are locked on him. "She is no longer my padawan. And you have nothing of value to offer us."

He arches a brow, looking back at you. "Really."

You can feel him sensing you through the force, and while you close yourself off from him, you can't help but feel him dominating the space between you.

Hearing Obi Wan say you're no longer his padawan stings. You aren't sure whether he means to dissolve the history between you, or if he simply means that you are a Jedi knight. Perhaps it's both. Regardless, you try to keep your focus on Dooku's cold, hard stare.

"A pity, what the war has done to the Order."

Neither of you gives him a response, and though his words are insulting at face value, you can't help but wonder if he means them sincerely, sensing that you're out of your depth.

"Come now, Master," Dooku drawls, directing his attention back to Obi Wan and letting his condescension drip through. "We need not fight a battle which is over already. Surrender your weapons and you will be brought before the Separatist council to discuss your release."

The reverberation of Obi Wan's lightsaber coming back to life echoes through the hangar. "The galaxy is filled with the remains of civilizations who chose to believe in your empty promises, Count."

There's a heavy silence, and Dooku nods to a soldier standing in the doorway. "So be it."

The soldier flips a switch and the ray shields dissipate. Everything next seems to happen in the blink of an eye.

Dooku extracts his own saber, and as Obi Wan melts into his familiar Soresu stance, your muscles barely have time to react before Dooku is striking at you, baring down with clear intent to kill.

You manage to dodge one of his blows, and his second connects with your blade, the sheer power of which nearly knocks it out of your hand. Obi Wan attacks him from behind, drawing him back for an instant, before he whirls on you again and uses the force to send you soaring across the room.

All the air leaves your lungs and you slam into the wall, the intensity of his blow leaving you to gather yourself momentarily. You watch as Dooku turns his full attention on your master, the two of them trading devastating strikes as if it's nothing. The air almost seems to be crackling; glowing within the force.

You crawl back up to your knees, then manage to get your legs beneath you once more. You know you have no hope of challenging Dooku, but Obi Wan does, and you need to do everything you can to give him an advantage. Taking a breath and giving yourself over to the force, you leap forward again and swing at Dooku's unguarded back.

Without missing a beat, he parries Obi Wan with a particularly savage blow, then whirls on you with a look of disdain. Slicing elegantly through the air, he meets your blade with such an impact that it rattles through your entire body. Your saber clatters to the ground, and Obi Wan's next strike is the only thing that keeps Dooku from piercing straight through you.

With a curled lip, Dooku turns on him again and drags his saber down the length of Obi Wan's. "I will not ask you again for your surrender."

Obi Wan answers with a polite smile that's betrayed by the ferocity of his blade. "Good. It was getting tiresome."

The two enter a new phase of the fight, their lightsabers clashing so brutally and quickly that you can hardly follow it enough to get a single strike in. Each time you swing, Dooku rebuffs your attacks seemingly without effort. He's pressed Obi Wan into a corner, and you're helpless to stop him when he finally breaks through his defenses to send his saber skittering across the floor.

"No!" the word wrenches out of your mouth involuntarily, and just as he pulls back to deliver the final blow, you swing your blade toward Dooku's neck, forcing him to turn and face you.

He's still holding his saber over Obi Wan, but his scowl deepens as he raises his other hand toward you. Force lighting erupts from his fingers, and you don't even have time to consider blocking it. It saps the strength from every muscle in your body, pain shooting through you in every sense of the word. You can feel your flesh burning, and just as painful are the deep shocks of pure hatred driving through the force.

Your limp body slams against the wall again, and before your head connects with duracrete, the last thing in front of your eyes is the bright red glow of a lightsaber aiming straight for your master's chest.

--

It's dark, now.

Your lungs ache when you try to draw breath. Everything aches. Even your eyes hurt when you blink, squinting through the darkness and seeing nothing.

Have you been blinded?

You reach for your lightsaber, but it's not there. The hazy memory of it falling from your hand comes into your mind, but fizzles before you can really picture it properly.

There's a sound. There's been a sound, and you're just starting to register it. Someone is calling your name.

"Can you hear me? Please, answer."

Your arm throbs as you bring your commlink to your mouth. "St-Storne?"

"You're alive!" the muffled voice answers. "Yeah, it's me. Listen, there's not much time. I think you're in a holding cell, and I think I can get you out."

You get halfway up from the ground, leaning over your own arm, a thought screaming into your mind when you're reminded of your surroundings. "Obi Wan! Where is he?"

"I... don't know. We lost track of him. But we can get you out, and we'll figure the rest out later."

You swallow, a different kind of pain enveloping you. Exhausted, you can barely gather the strength to look out through the force. You can't sense him. Your heart flutters, slamming inside your ribcage so hard you're afraid it will break you open. You can't sense him.

A few more panicked seconds pass before you remember to speak. You clear your throat, trying to keep your grip on reality. "Who is 'we'?"

"Backup. Captain Pais sent in clone troopers and took out the orbital base. Unjammed the comm signals, too. But we still can't get around the ray shields. Only chance we have is to blow up the entrance on the east side of the outpost where there are no ray shields and hope we take out enough walls to get to you."

Your mind is still spinning, and you're only taking in about half of his words. "What do you need me to do?"

There's blaster fire in the background as he answers. "Get on the west side of the holding cell and stay there."

You look around. "I can't see anything. I don't know which side is which."

He pauses and you can hear rumbling outside of wherever you currently are. "Then just... cover your head. And wait."

You let the words echo inside your pounding head. "Roger that."

"Three minutes. Be ready."

"Wait! Storne. Have you talked to Shrike?"

There's a heavy silence. "Three minutes."

The background noise cuts out, leaving you alone in the dark, fighting to stay conscious when the world is black no matter whether your eyes are open or closed.

Things happen very quickly. You realize when you hear the explosion nearby that you actually have been losing consciousness. Ten seconds seemed to pass, and the promised destruction is already happening. You scramble to the opposite side of your cell, trying to get away from the sound of laserfire.

You open your eyes. It's light now. There are clone troopers pouring into the cell. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air. Powdered duracrete dusts your skin.

You open your eyes. You're being carried on a stretcher to the edge of a cliff, near the water. It's brighter still. You can hear the crashing of the waves. A clone gunship is hovering nearby. There's so much shouting.

You open your eyes. The clone ship is pulling away from the cliff's edge, engines roaring. You sit up. You're still on the stretcher, facing outside. Below you, back on the ground, there's a body being dragged by two clone troopers, legs limp and head hanging. The face is too bloody to make out any features.

Then, you sense it. It's not a body - it's a being. He's alive in the force, and he's looking back at you now, head raising weakly from his shoulders. When he seems to register you, his eyes snap upward and he struggles against the troopers to stand up.

He calls your name.

"Obi Wan!" His name rips out of you raggedly, and you scramble to get off of the gurney.

"Commander, no," the clone medic next to you reaches for your arm. "You can't sit up right now."

Some part of you is aware that you're badly hurt and should listen, but he's alive and nothing else has the space to enter your mind right now.

Suddenly, you hear a high pitched tone and everything goes white. The last thing you feel is Obi Wan reaching out in the force, his mind searching for yours. Disoriented, urgent, pleading...

--

You awaken, finally and properly, to the living world, back on board the Republic cruiser.

Captain Pais is the first person you see, standing at the side of your bed. You stifle a groan as the full extent of your injuries make themselves known.

"Welcome back, Commander. How are you feeling?"

You roll to the side, sitting up a bit and looking over at the glass of water on a nearby table. He jolts, realizing what you're looking at, and hands it to you. You gulp down a few swallows, then catch your breath.

"Thank you."

He nods, and you pull back your bedding to sit up all the way. "I'm... alright. Where is-" you stop just short of using his name. "Is the general okay?"

"He's fine. Back on duty already, in fact."

You blink, thinking of the battered, bloody wreck you'd seen him in. "How is that possible?"

The captain shrugs and smiles. "You know General Kenobi. He didn't stay in the tank for long. He came to see you, of course, but you were..."

He indicates the stark white medbay bed, and you nod. "Right. What about Captain Shrike? And Storne?"

The captain gives a hard, tight look. "Captain Shrike... managed to alert the main fleet before Dooku destroyed his base on arrival. It's the only reason we were even aware to set up your extraction."

"And he sent R4 to get me, which was a plus in my book, if that counts."

Storne gives you a smile as he enters the room, arm bandaged but otherwise in one piece. Relief floods you at seeing him alive. "Yes, that counts," you tell him.

"He was a good man, and he'll be remembered," Captain Pais finishes solemnly.

You feel a deep pang of guilt at Shrike's loss. If you hadn't taken his place...

"That he will," Storne agrees. "But you'll be glad to know, our efforts weren't for nothing. The blockade is expected to fall soon."

You turn to the captain, his face affirmative. "Indeed. We should reach the people of Aaloth within two standard days."

"So the intel was-"

"Was good, yes. We launched the attack as planned and the Separatists had no forewarning."

Your body sinks back into the bed, immense weight lifting from your mind. "Thank the force."

"Yes, I very much agree," the captain tells you. "We will be on our way to join them shortly; finishing preparations now. I understand it's been recommended that you do not join us in your current state, Commander. I've arranged for your ship to be prepared to leave within the hour."

Back to Ilum. You nod, taking in the new information.  You have to go home. What next? What comes after this?

Your pounding head tells you not to think that far ahead. "I see. I'll get ready." You hesitate. "Is, uh, is the general available?"

"He was called to join the attack on the blockade as soon as he was ready. He left a few hours ago."

"Right," you brush it off, keeping your tone as even as possible. "Thank you, Captain. For everything."

"It was a pleasure to serve with you, Commander."

He inclines his head in respect, then turns and leaves, with Storne taking his place at the side of your bed. You scoot to the edge and place your feet on the floor, and he reaches out with his good arm.

"Here, let me help."

Thanking him, you take it, and he helps you get to your robes. They're dirty and torn at the edges, but nothing that can't be repaired when you get home. You pull your hospital clothes over your head.

"Turn around," you tell him, arms waiting halfway up.

"How about I cover my eyes?" he asks playfully, slipping his unbandaged hand over his face and then breaking his fingers apart, looking at you through the gaps.

"How about you leave the room?" you retort, rolling your eyes.

He chuckles and turns around until you're dressed, then helps you down the long hallway to the turbolift. You find your ship prepared just as the captain had said, and Storne opens the hatch for you to board. When you finish the calculations for your flight path home, you turn back to face him.

"I can't thank you enough," you tell him, a mix of emotions in your voice. "I guess I owe you my life twice over, now. You'll have to call me when you want to get even."

He smirks. "I'll call you either way, sweetheart. And you can pay me back by making sure I get triple the normal rate, as your Jedi bretheren promised."

You smile and roll your eyes. "Of course. But you can stop with all the sweetheart stuff - we're alone, now."

He glances around the ship's interior. "Right. Sorry, hard habit to break. Besides, you know you like it."

You give a genuine laugh at that and he returns a genuine smile; the first time you've interacted alone in a long time.

"Anyway, I'll make sure you get your proper pay. And tell Tasana I hope she's well."

Tasana is the wife Storne has hidden from the galaxy since their marriage many years ago. You've known and cherished her as much as him, and you've gladly protected her identity by playing along with the incorrigible flirt Storne has chosen for his fake persona. Even during your "marriage", it was heavily implied that his infidelity had lead to your parting of ways, as he just couldn't keep to one woman.

As his childhood friend, you're privy to a story not many other people know. He prefers to keep it that way, and his secret will always be safe with you.

"She is, and I will," he says, backing toward the closed hatch. "Take care of yourself out there, master Jedi."

"Not a master," you call over your shoulder as you make final adjustments to your flight controls. "Just a Jedi."

He snorts before hopping out of the hatch. "Whatever you're calling yourself these days."

You lift off shortly after he closes the hatch and gets clear of your ship. The stars greet you as you exit the hangar bay of the massive cruiser, and you release a heavy sigh, beginning the long flight home, alone with your thoughts.

Somehow, the darkness of space seems emptier than it ever has before.

--

It's been two standard days since you arrived back on Ilum, and it's been two standard hours since you received a report of a nasty ice storm approaching your small home on the outskirts of nowhere. After you'd received the latest weather update on your long range holocomm, you certainly hadn't been expecting company anytime soon.

Which is why you nearly leap out of your skin when, over the howling wind outside, you hear a knock at your door.

You set down the drink you'd been holding, rising from your seat to cautiously approach. Looking through the little window at the top of the door frame, you can just make out the fur of an unfamiliar parka through the furiously whirling snow. Beneath it, you catch sight of a brown hood, and beneath that, a pair of eyes that you'd never mistake for anyone else's.

You throw open the door.

"Obi Wan?"

He stands there, squinting through the wind, and yet, still unmoving.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, the words falling out of you in shock. Quickly, your thoughts turn to the worst. "Did something happen on Aaloth?"

He gives a distracted half-shake of his head. The frost is sparkling in his beard and the arches of his brows when he raises them. He looks achingly beautiful with his blue eyes reflecting the cold. "No. No, everything went according to plan. I just... needed to reach you. Needed to speak to you."

"About-" you cut yourself short, realizing he must be freezing while you stare at him stupidly, mind not yet convinced that he's really here. "I'm sorry - please, come inside."

He almost seems relieved at your invitation, as if he hadn't been expecting it. He still stands hesitantly in the doorway once you've gotten the door closed with him on the inside of it. Lowering his hood, he runs a hand down the front of his beard, smoothing it and raking out the snow.

"Thank you."

"Of course," you respond, still too stunned by his presence to really speak. "You came all this way to talk? Why didn't you call?"

He blinks, halting the hand that had been running through his messy hair. "Historically, I've had difficulty reaching you."

The saved messages play over in your mind and you flush a little with embarrassment. "Right. Sorry."

He brings the hand back down, waving it in gentle dismissal of your words. "No, don't apologize. It's quite alright. In fact, I am the one who should begin with an apology."

Now you're truly speechless. An apology? After what you had done?

"I owe you an apology for my outburst during the mission. And I owe you a debt of gratitude for your actions. Had you not involved Storne, we both may have lost our lives."

You swallow, dropping your gaze to the side. "I don't know if anything I did was right or wrong. Things may have turned out differently if I had never come. We don't know for sure."

"You're right," he allows. "We don't. All we can be sure of is that we provided the intel that was needed to save lives, and we escaped with ours. And that is thanks to you, whether you will take the credit or not."

You don't say anything back, still not able to agree, but unwilling to argue.

"But that is not what I came here to say."

He unclasps the front of his parka and removes it, setting it on a bench near your door. You wait patiently for him to continue, watching his chest rise and fall beneath his robes as he passes a long breath. Then he turns back to you slowly, expression withholding; tentative.

"When we fought Dooku, I believed I had prepared myself for any outcome. As in any other battle, the will of the force mattered over all else, and I never considered-"

He stops talking, seeming to gather his words. You let him, having no idea what he's trying to say. "When I saw them drag you from the room... I could no longer feel you in the force. I didn't know you were only unconscious. And I..."

You knit your brows together, hanging on his every breath. His eyelashes are dark; wet from the melting snow, and they cast shadows over his face when he looks down. "I managed to escape from Dooku by using techniques of which I am not proud. I felt things I should not have felt, and I reacted in a way that a Jedi should not."

There's a long, heavy silence. You want to comfort him, but your mind is barely functioning. What he's saying is so impossible that you can't even fathom it.

"I... don't understand," you finally say in response. "You're saying... because you thought I had died, you...?" You trail off, unable to complete the thought.

"I am saying," he pauses. "That... I think it would be best if this was our last mission together."

Your chest feels like he's blown a hole through you. Your throat is burning and you can hardly murmur, "But, why?"

He gives you a pained look, stepping closer, closing the short distance between you.

"Commander-" And then he corrects himself, using your name, and it sounds so soft, so warm in his mouth that your knees go weak. "You must know."

You draw your eyes up to his and he's looking at you so plainly, the emotion written all over his face. He reaches a hand out to you, just barely, and drops it back into his own hand, clasping them as if holding himself away. You feel his presence wrap around you, and for the first time, you feel the longing within him. His voice lowers.

"You must know."

He says it as if it's been clear to you for so long, and yet, you'd never thought- never even dreamed...

You're standing so still, afraid that if you move, you'll fall into a kiss that neither of you wants. Yet, every fiber of you is dying for it. An eternity passes, just like this, and you'd be happy in this perpetual agony if only you didn't know it had to end.

And end, it does.

An emergency alert beeps through your holocomm, breaking the silence and pulling your eyes away, just for an instant.

But it's long enough for Obi Wan to remember himself and step away. He swallows thickly. "I shouldn't stay any longer."

You take a deep breath, willing the force to relieve you of your desperate thoughts. "Right. You should go if you don't want to be caught in the storm."

He pulls his jacket back on, facing away from you, giving you a few seconds to gather yourself. When he turns back, you force a smile, knowing it comes out wrong, but trying anyway.

"At least our last mission together was a success."

The corners of his eyes crinkle, but his smile is as broken as yours. He pulls his hood over his head. "From you, I would expect nothing less."

Your smile fades, and you follow him to the door. There are a million things you want to say to him, but you know saying even one of your thoughts out loud would destroy you. So, you say the only words you have left.

"Goodbye, Obi Wan."

The snow stings your eyes when he steps outside, turning back to you.

"May the force be with you," he says over the sound of the wind. "And may it keep you safe."

You watch him go, ice whipping against your skin, until you're numb. Until there's nothing left on the landscape but white. Your lips break apart as you whisper into the empty air.

"And may it bring us back together someday."

--

Author's Note: For those of you following the AO3 tags, although Captain Shrike is a major character in my heart (���) I don't consider him a major character for tagging purposes.

I apologize for the length of this chapter! Thank you to everyone again for being so patient and kind during the wait between this chapter and the last. Your encouragement was much appreciated!

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420 @eddythewitch

Masterlist // Next Chapter >>

[gretavanfleetposts]

Fire in the Water: Chapter Nine

Summary: You had thought dating a vampire would be the most complicated thing you'd ever done. But as it turns out, becoming one is even more complicated. The boys are determined to make your transformation as smooth as possible while each fighting to maintain the relationships they once had and those they now lust for. Author's Note: As always, I'd like to thank the lovely @gretasmokerising and @earthlysorrows Content Warnings: swearing, death, mentions of being burned alive, allusions to drowning (no one is actually drowning but it is written that way), mentions of suicide (this one is a lot, folks) Word Count: 10k

Add Yourself to the Taglist

Jake sat next to you with a cool exterior but you could tell by the way he fidgeted his thumbs around one another in a frantic dance, one always chasing after the other, that he wasn't as calm and collected as he wanted to appear. You could guess what was going through his head, too: the danger you were both in now that the council knew about you. It was what had been going through your head since you'd laid eyes on the tall man who looked like the creature he was in your home. It was what had been going through your head during the silent journey to the airport, through security, sitting at the gate, and now as you sat in a cramped airline seat surrounded by blissfully unaware human passengers waiting to take off.

The council had summoned you to their place of rule in a city called Niterra, tucked away within what humans knew to be Barcelona. The way Jake described it, it was a well-kept secret hidden in plain sight. That was where the high council wrote law into stone. That was where you were headed for what you could only assume would be a trial, with you as the evidence of Jake's crimes.

“I need to tell you something.” Jake only gave a quick glance at his surroundings before leaning over slightly to speak quietly to you.

He spoke in a hushed tone to avoid Marcus’ ears; Marcus, who appeared to be making light conversation with a flight attendant, several rows in front of you.

You nodded uneasily, glancing about at your surroundings the way he had before meeting his eyes. And when you finally did match his gaze, you saw the cracks in the facade.

“The reason you're struggling to use your gifts is because we haven't completed the binding ritual,” he explained with a guilty look on his face. “You'll grow weaker and weaker until we do.”

You could tell he was waiting for the brunt of your anger but it never came. Instead, all he found behind your eyes was shock.

The last instance you had tried to use your gifts to no avail suddenly made sense to you now. It was the reason you hadn't flown off the handle at your usual readiness. It was the reason you hadn't hurt anyone in over a week. You hadn't even realized it had been happening, your abilities dampening from the inside out until they were nothing but a slurry of mush that couldn't form into anything substantial. You only wished you had known before you’d possibly found something good to put them to use for. Something worthy of such pain, at least.

“I should have told you sooner but I didn't want you to think I was trying to push you before you were ready just so that I didn't have to be without my gifts.”

You swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump that now blocked your throat. That’s exactly what you would have thought if he had told you before the high council arrived. You never would have given yourself over to him that way. You probably never would have trusted him again. So you could hardly blame him for it.

But regardless of what had led to the decision and how warranted it had been at the time, it still left you both in a dangerous position that you now couldn’t ignore.

“I can't protect us,” you whispered, your eyes boring holes into the back of Marcus’ head.

Jake gave you a look of disapproval, his hand meeting yours on the armrest to give it a tight squeeze. “You won't have to. I'm prepared to take full responsibility for what I did. There's no reason it should even involve you.”

“But what happens if one of us dies before binding?” You turned to study him, suddenly thinking about the different ways this situation might play out and just how fucked you possibly were. “Are they permanently weak? Permanently unable to defend themselves?”

“There haven't been many documented cases of that happening but yes, historically the other has weakened to the point of losing their gifts entirely.”

Losing your gifts entirely. It would be a reprieve from the inner turmoil you'd felt since the moment you turned. Maybe it would even be a blessing. But a life without Jake would hardly be worth it. Your selfish reasons were exactly that: selfish. And Jake had given you a reason to leave that selfishness behind you.

You only wondered if the high council would even leave it up to you. And if you were to be honest with yourself, you doubted they would.

“Who is Cassius?” you asked, the thought having brought another name to mind that set your teeth on edge more than Marcus’ did without even knowing the man behind it.

Jake cleared his throat and seemed to gulp down the more aggressive feelings he had about the man you had just named. “He's the head of the high council. He has final say on all decisions, all laws, all rulings,” he shook his head, almost exasperated, “everything.”

“What's his gift?”

“He's clairvoyant.”

“Like Danny?”

“No,” Jake corrected, “Danny's visions are subjective. Cassius sees everything exactly as it will happen.”

You sucked the skin of your cheek between your teeth as you thought about what that meant.

“So he saw me coming?” you questioned.

“Well, I don't think he'd given me much thought in years. Something brought us to his attention in the first place for him to know to look.”

His voice was never void of that concern that had been there since the moment Danny had interrupted you both earlier that night. It was there now as he thought of this man he must have known. One he must have feared, by the look of it.

You didn't relish seeing Jake that way, thinly veiled fear in his eyes as he tried his best to put on a good front for you. Jake was always so calm, always so even. It didn’t bode well for the man you were about to meet.

“Can he stop the things before they happen?” you asked. “I mean, can he intervene?”

Jake pursed his lips, looking more and more lost in his own thoughts the longer you spoke about Cassius.

“Yes but he rarely does. Only when it suits him…He's not exactly a good person.”

As he trailed off quietly, you tried your best to piece things together. A powerful man with the ability to see all, unwilling to change the course of the future unless it suited him. You could guess how things typically ended in his court. But that wasn’t exactly what worried you.

Something had brought Cassius’ attention to your doorstep. And there was a fear that had been creeping up the back of your throat like a lump that refused to go unnoticed since Marcus had arrived. It was a fear born of something Jake had said in a more heated moment, something you never in a million lifetimes would have believed. But two of his brothers were absent from the house. Neither seemed capable of it, betraying their brother. But one of them had been just angry enough when he left…

Jake's hand found yours again, the chilled comfort of his skin breaking you from your thoughts before you could entertain them for too long.

“Just do what they say no matter what and you'll be fine,” he whispered with his eyes suddenly locked on yours like he was begging you to listen to him for once in your life without argument. “I promise you, I will get you out of this.”

Your shoulders fell and a sigh puffed in your chest. You'd give anything to go back in time several hours, to relive your night with Jake but finish what you had started. Maybe then this mess wouldn't feel so messy.

“We should have bound when we had the chance,” you admitted, turning to stare forward, this time at the seat back in front of you, losing yourself in the knit blue pattern.

Mentally reprimanding yourself now would do you no good. Still, that didn’t stop you from doing it.

So fucking stubborn.

“You weren't ready for it,” Jake answered quickly with another squeeze to your hand.

“Look at the position I've put us in, Jake,” you argued back. “Ready or not, we can't defend ourselves-”

“There is no ‘we’ here,” he stopped you with a pointed look and a tense tone tightening his already rigid demeanor. “I don't want you to do anything that will put you in harm's way. You're still a newborn and you're strong. Cassius will take a liking to you. As long as you listen to him, you'll be fine.”

“But what about you?”

He was silent when you met his eyes, his jaw clenching under the weight of your stare, a stare that didn’t hide any of its accusatory heft, like you didn’t trust him not to do something stupid for your sake. And you certainly didn’t.

He relived it as your eyes locked, unwavering despite the chaos of life around you, just the way you did, relived the night only hours prior when you had each finally bared your souls to one another. It was worse this way, you couldn’t help but feel it. Now you knew what you’d be sacrificing, you both did. Maybe it made the path clearer before each of you but it hurt all that much more.

He stared forward again, breaking whatever magnetizing force had been holding you that way with a relinquished sigh that came from a place of resentment, not from what he had done but from the fact that he had never had any choice but to do it. He could have lived a thousand lifetimes over and he would have turned you in each one. You both knew it. You were always destined to end up here.

“It was my decision. I alone will face the consequences.”

It didn’t stop you from protesting, but a flight attendant passing by and giving you a warm greeting cooled any escalation before it heated to a boil. So rather than causing a scene, you decided to drop it for the time being, opting to attempt to gather more information from him instead while he seemed so willing to give it.

“I take it you've met them all before.”

“Sam and I both have. When I turned the other woman, I was summoned alone. But after Adele bound with Danny in the 70s, Sam spent a decade sitting on the council.”

“Sam was on the council?” Why anything surprised you anymore, you weren't sure. But this certainly did. You couldn't imagine Sam sitting so still. Couldn't imagine him confined within walls and rules, doing the bidding of others and judging everyone who stood before him. He didn't seem to have it in him and if he did, surely he would have cast judgment over you. He'd had reason enough to.

“Barely,” Jake answered. “Low level position. They liked his gifts; he could tell them when their subjects were lying. But they were hard on him. I swear, it wasn't Adele leaving him that turned him into what he is now, it was his time on the council.”

You felt your forehead crease, the weight of your sudden worry folding the skin downward as you thought of anyone hurting Sam.

“What did they do?”

“Constantly tested his loyalty to them. Cassius would have him prove someone's innocence just to turn around and have him kill them.” Jake sighed and shook his head, dropping his eyes to his hands that fiddled once again in his lap. “Sam would never admit it but it really did a number on him.”

“How could they-? I mean, why would Cassius do that?”

“Not all vampires have gifts. Cassius doesn't really value the lives of those that don't. But those that do, he wants to make sure they're in his pocket. He wanted to break Sam to use him as his own.”

“But he was able to leave? I mean, they didn’t break him. He left. Cassius let him leave.”

If Jake could see how frantic you suddenly felt, he didn’t let on other than slowing his words as if that could slow your panic.

“Sam is incredibly gifted. Whatever he's shown you, it's only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what he can do. Cassius would either have a vampire like that killed or he would use them. Whatever he has seen in Sam's future must have either made him feel safe enough to leave him alive or interested him enough to leave him alive.”

You were almost speechless. All that time and Sam had never even so much as let on.

“I take it Sam hasn’t really shown you much of what he can do,” Jake said quietly, like he was testing the waters.

“You mean other than the mind reading and the memory projection,” you answered quietly as you sat staring stunned at the stupid stained blue airline seat before you.

“I visited once…while he was on the council,” he began slowly and suddenly you weren't sure if it was for your sake or his. “I saw him…I mean, I-I watched him crawl inside another vampire's mind and drive them so crazy that they burned themself alive just to get some relief.”

He eyed you carefully before he continued, looking for a sign of, well, anything really that might have told him continuing was a bad idea.

“He can show you your own memories, make you relive them even if you thought you'd forgotten them. He can make you believe something that isn't real. Make it feel like a memory of something that actually happened when it didn't. He can see your dreams, manipulate them, give you nightmares, share his own. He can convince a person’s brain to just…give out on them. Convince them they’re on fire to the point that their skin actually burns. He can make people go crazy and turn them sane again with hardly any effort at all. If it can happen in your mind, Sam can manipulate it how he wants.”

He was shaking his head by the end and it made you wonder what else he had seen his brother do, things that Sam had never shown you. Although you couldn't really blame him for not wanting to subject you to that.

“To be completely honest with you, I don’t even know why Cassius let Sam live, let alone let him leave the council.”

“I had no idea,” you whispered. It was all you could muster at the mental image of Sam hurting people that way. The way you did. Maybe even worse than the way you did.

“He doesn’t ever use his gifts to their full extent anymore. I think he's afraid that if he does, he'll grow to enjoy it too much.”

“But he's so…gentle…”

“Yeah, I think you're the only person that Sam shows that side of himself to.”

It was hard to ignore the tinge of jealousy, anger, something, that seeped into his words. It only made you want to defend Sam harder, like you had not too long ago in the greenhouse when his brother had launched a similar attack.

“You really think he could be the type of person-”

“I've felt it in him,” Jake cut you off swiftly. “He struggles to resist temptation just the way you do. Why do you think he kills the people he feeds from when he doesn’t have to? The same reason that you prefer it.”

It was the comparison that silenced you. You'd only been without your gifts for a short while but had you already forgotten the things you yourself were capable of? And thinking about it now, Sam had been more than able to dig around in your mind and manipulate things however he wished but he hadn't. And yet, that didn't mean he didn't deal with his own demons. It was just another battle he hadn't shown you, another secret he had kept, maybe for your sake, maybe for his. Not that it really mattered when it came to things left unsaid.

You were even more like Sam than you realized. You had thought it was the way you struggled that reminded him of Danny and warmed him to you a bit but the whole time, it had been himself that he saw, like he was facing a mirror, one he couldn't turn away from. He had helped you to help himself. And maybe, just maybe, he really did need you the way you needed him. Perhaps a selfish thought but one you couldn't quell nonetheless. Maybe you had shown Sam a side of himself that he could find. Maybe he could only find it with you.

It suddenly made more sense why he left. And why he didn't say goodbye. You knew how hard goodbyes were. You never would have let him go. And he probably never would have been able to leave.

You tried to remind yourself that Jake wasn't the enemy as your thoughts swirled around Sam and the pain you felt for him, like a dagger growing sharper and puncturing deeper with every new morsel of information you learned about him, his life, the things he had given up. The things he had lost. You tried to remind yourself that Jake had given things up, too. Jake had lost things too. And now, he faced an even more terrible fate than saying goodbye. He faced judgment for being unable to say it.

“What was her name?” you asked out of the blue, swiftly cutting through the silence with the question and stunning Jake by the look on his face when he met your eyes. “The woman you turned, what was her name?”

He stared at you squarely for a moment before answering, straightforward. He rarely ever did that.

“Rebecca.”

Rebecca.

“Did you love her?”

“I thought I did. But I never even really knew her.”

His voice cracked when he said it. Not in any way that signaled to you that he was still emotional over her, but in that Jake way, where the husk reached a tipping point and his voice gave out slightly thanks to the rasp and the push and pull of a quiet word spoken just above a whisper that always seemed to strain his vocal cords a little harder. It was something unique to him that his twin didn't share. But it suited him. You thought so now more than ever. It was that familiar crack that let a hint of what was behind it shine through, his more honest self. His more scared self.

And you were scared, too. Maybe it was the tie, maybe it was self-preservation. Regardless, you felt it. It tugged on you, yanked on your skin and wrestled with your stomach.

“Jake, if anything happens to you, I'll never forgive myself,” you breathed lightly, deciding you didn’t want to learn anything else for the foreseeable future. Whatever else there was to know, you didn’t need to know it.

It was the first smile he had given you in hours but it barely touched his eyes. And even so, you found some comfort in it, whatever you could manage.

“Trust me, I have a lot of incentive to stick around.”

—

There was a car that arrived to drive you through the narrow streets of the city to the great stone fortress that laid at the heart, housing more danger than anyone in the vicinity even realized. Little humans going about their little lives, living blissfully unaware that another civilization lived right atop them, feeding from them and discarding them like nothing.

You weren’t one to find things so grotesque so easily but the moment you stepped foot out of the car and gazed up at the large, assuming structure, you felt just how morbid it all really was.

You and Jake were escorted inside by a pair of unflinching guards who likely were used to their duties, enough to know there was no point in getting to know either of you. But Jake’s hand gripped yours tightly, all through the entrance and down the grand, dim, castle-like hallway, until two wide double doors that reached up fifteen feet high were opened to reveal before you a large room made almost entirely out of white and black checked marble with seven throne-like seats lining the back wall.

When Marcus took his seat amongst them, each was filled. Your eyes scanned over them all, from one end to the other. Every vampire who sat among them with eyes more piercing than the last seemed to sit like stone statues, practically blending into their marble surroundings. You presumed it was Cassius who sat in the center, taking up the largest throne in the middle. But it was the vampire who occupied the seat furthest to the left that suddenly had you holding back tears you didn’t know had been at the ready.

Sam.

“Ah, my guests!” the vampire in the middle exclaimed before you’d had enough time to think through Sam’s presence or his icy stare toward his brother. “I am so honored you both could come.”

If Marcus’ appearance had been unsettling, it was nothing compared to the way you felt staring into Cassius’ blood red eyes, an eerie smile curling up his thin lips against stark white skin that almost looked like powdery snow under the dim lights.

He held his eyes open far too wide for anything natural, flared his nostrils too much to look even remotely calm. And yet, he stood slowly and walked over to greet you both, practically floating his way across the room with the smoothness of his movements.

And although he seemed pleasant and endeared, it was obvious he was anything but. Merely putting on a show in hopes it would lower the guards of his prey. Or those he wished to keep in his pocket. You weren’t yet sure which one you were.

When he stood only a few inches from your face, unblinking as he took you in and sized you up, you fought against your nerves to remain silent and still, hoping that if you made yourself small enough or quiet enough, he would turn his focus toward something else.

But that odd, disingenuous smile never vacated his lips.

“Orestes,” he said, unflinching as a large man who looked just as ancient as he was approached like a gargoyle from behind him and took your hand roughly into his.

It sent an immediate jolt through your body, like he could get under your skin and touch you in a way you didn't like. But it only lasted a moment before he dropped your hand, offering a fingertip to Cassius who pressed his palm to it. And when their skin met, his eyes went even wider and he sucked in a long, deep breath.

“Ah, my Jacob.” He spoke inhumanly slowly and the way Jake's name rolled off his tongue made your skin crawl. “You have created something very…interesting.”

Cassius stepped around you, circling you to take you in from all angles before crossing in front of Jake and stopping there, just as close to him as he had been to you. An intimidation tactic if you were to judge it by the way it had left you feeling.

“You have not yet bound to her.” He didn't ask it like a question but he waited for a reply nonetheless. Despite probably already knowing the answer, too.

Jake looked as though he were fighting with every ounce of strength he had not to glance over at you. He looked to almost be straining himself keeping his eyes on Cassius’, to talk about you like you weren't even there just as Cassius seemed so keen on doing.

“No, not yet.” His voice sounded like a mere squeak when he finally found it.

“You mean to,” Cassius answered, and it was the wide smile that practically stretched from one ear to the other that churned up a rude nausea in your stomach.

It was what seemed to incite Jake to fail at his task too as his eyes clumsily found yours for too long a moment.

Cassius tutted his tongue and took Jake's cheeks roughly in one hand, turning the poor boy's eyes back to him. “Ah ah ah, I am the one who asked the question.”

“Yes,” Jake breathed out as the vampire dropped his hand. “Yes, I mean to.”

It seemed to entertain Cassius to no end, a shrill, piercing laughter shaking from his throat. He glanced about the room as he did, encouraging laughter from the others on the council. All but one. All but Sam.

When he turned back, his laughter quieted but his face hardly settled from its gaping mouth and wide eyes.

“May I speak with your lover in private?” he asked, still staring intently at Jake. “I should very much like to get to know her.”

You would have begged Jake to stay if you could have. But you knew he had no say in the matter. Do as you're told, that was what he had said to you. He was smart enough to do the same so despite how cold you suddenly felt, with only one quick glance, he accepted his usher toward the door with a trail of council members following him.

Sam was the last to leave the room, staying still in his chair with his eyes on yours. It was the first time you'd let yourself really look at him. You could have run to him if your feet had let you, even now knowing with almost certainty what he had done. You could still deny it. You could still lie to yourself. He at least looked sorry when his eyes found yours, a hint of red rimming at their edges.

He broke eye contact with you when Cassius turned impatiently, his smile widening awkwardly like he wanted to scold him but refused to do so in front of you for some reason. But without any word, Sam stood and crossed the room in stride, turning his back to the hall as he shut the large double doors to give Cassius one last haunting look before you were alone with your fate.

And he looked delighted to finally be alone.

"A vampire who has not yet bound herself to her soul tie, and one who is so beautiful too, after how long exactly?" He took the emptiness of the room as an opportunity to stand mere inches away from you now.

"A-a little over a month," you stammered as you found your own voice and tested it.

"Ah,” he breathed. “You are special indeed."

When you met him with silence and a blank stare, he began to pace a few feet in front of you, hands held behind his back and fingers practically twitching against his palms. You hoped you wouldn't come to learn what that must have meant although you could hardly complain about the distance he had put between you.

"The restraint that requires,” he continued. “I've not known many who can last much longer than a week. And you certainly did get a pretty one."

"I was with his brother before. It hasn't exactly been an easy transition." As you explained it, your voice gained steadiness, like you were finding your bravery.

"The one I now keep in my pocket?" he asked.

"No,” you corrected him. You hoped your hurt didn’t show in your voice. “A third."

He nodded and smiled to himself, something a little less eerie but just as entertained.

"Quite an entanglement you've seemed to have ended up in."

"You have the gift of astuteness, I see."

He laughed that same odd, delighted laugh at your sarcasm and although it wasn't a sound you particularly cared for, it was better than any punishment he might have thought to inflict upon your lack of respect. Actually, he almost seemed to approve.

"Intuition,” he smiled as his eyes widened deliberately and pointedly at you. “That is how I know it is neither the third nor the one to whom you are tied that sees your soul as it is."

Even if you had known exactly what he had meant by that, you wouldn't have given anything away willingly, and your icy stare was met with a gleeful giggle as he scrunched up his shoulders and slunk over to you.

“I must say, I do love the drama of it all,” he practically squealed before continuing his serpent-like movements around you. “I have long tried to recruit Jacob into my ranks. I’d have loved to have a matching pair. And yet, he refuses. It is a shame, too. If I had been successful, you would not be in the mess you are now.”

“I don't understand,” you broke your silence, catching him off guard when he stopped in front of you yet again.

“You have a very interesting future, my dear. I knew our beautiful little Jacob would break the rules for you. I saw it all. It was not a future I was prepared to see through to the end. But your lover is stubborn, and he refused my invitation. And so here we are, barreling toward the end of this exciting journey.”

He seemed far too excited to see things play out for your taste.

“I didn't realize there was someone out there so invested in my future,” you answered flatly.

“I am invested in all things worthy of my intrigue. And you, my dear,” he took your chin in his hand this time, yanking your face toward his, “you are more than worthy.” He let your face drop as he turned his back on you, heading for his throne that he practically threw his body into once he reached it. “The question is, do I let this mess continue or do I intervene?”

You shouldn't have encouraged him but you couldn't even help yourself, given the mess you were in. The mess you continued to make just like the trashed greenhouse you had left behind you. You had hurt so many brothers and in such a short amount of time, it was almost a relief to hear Cassius say it was not the future he intended to let happen. It was hardly a future worth letting play out at all.

“Can't say I wouldn't mind a little intervention,” you huffed under your breath.

It was an answer that delighted him.

“Oh, I do like you. I knew I would.”

He sat lounging comfortably in his chair with his untrustworthy eyes on yours and a smile plastered to his face. This was the man Sam had sold his soul to. This was the man that had hurt him beyond belief and yet it was the same man he had gone running back to in the end. And in that moment, you weren’t sure who you hated more, Cassius or Sam.

“If I may,” you began uneasily, knowing there was no going back once you’d asked the question, “how did you find out about me?”

“Ah, yes.” Cassius stood and took his time slinking across the room once more. This time when he reached you, his fingers curled in your hair and brought it to his nose, his eyes falling shut as he breathed in deeply to catch your scent and commit it to memory. And when his eyes opened, they almost seemed redder than before.

He took your face in one hand, the ice of his skin feeling like it could splinter your own where he touched you.

“It was our dear Samuel who told me it had been done,” he answered. “He is loyal to me. I made certain of that.”

If you had been alone, you would have sunk to your knees and screamed. If you’d had your gifts, you would have disintegrated everything in your path. And if Sam had been standing before you, you would have beat your body against him, waged war against him, begged him to tell you it wasn’t true or demanded a reason. But Sam wasn’t there. And you had no gifts. You had almost nothing left, not even any fight. And all of that anger and betrayal and heartbreak crescendoed into a single tear falling from the corner of your eye.

Cassius wiped at it with a single finger, studying the drop where it lay on the pad of skin. “Do not blame him for what he has done, my dear. You would not have gone unnoticed by me for long. I was always destined to find you out.” He turned his back on you again, a simple flexing of his two fingers against his palm held behind his back some invisible signal as he made his way to his chair once more. "It really is too bad he broke the rules."

You didn’t even have the time to grieve before two members of the council each opened one of the large doors behind you, as though they had been summoned. They made way for the rest to enter once more, Jake trailing in behind them all with Marcus to his back to ensure he didn't run. Not that he would without you.

And this time, Sam never let his eyes find yours.

“It isn't often I take the opportunity to step into another's path and alter it,” Cassius began once the company returned and settled into their respective seats. “But I have seen things in your futures that I cannot overlook. So, I am left with a choice: let you bind and restore your strength so that you may forever sit on my council…”

He took a sick moment to smile over at you before he finished.

“Or kill you both.”

“No!” Jake was already fighting against the hands that had quickly come to stop him from whatever feeble attempt he was about to make to stop Cassius as Sam’s voice screamed out overtop.

“That wasn’t our deal!”

“Silence!” Cassius boomed, suddenly a picture just as threatening as you now understood him to be as the smile dissipated and what had been hiding, that sinister, deadly serious look, shone through from beneath. “You,” he pointed at Sam, “have no weight here! You come and go as you please; you do not get to snivel and whine in my ear!”

He stood and turned his eyes toward Jake, anger turning into a dangerous glower. “And you.” You could practically see the disdain dripping from his mouth when he said it. “You have broken what little rules I set before you. Not to mention, I cannot overlook the fact that in the process, you have created something much more powerful than the last.”

It was then that Jake's eyes met yours again, tearful and tired and filled with remorse. It wasn’t an image of him that you wanted to remember.

“Leave me!” Cassius demanded again. “I shall think on it. And you two shall remain separated until I've decided.”

With a wave of his hand, you found yourself being dragged out the door by hands you didn't recognize, only the sound of Jake's cries for you audible over the ringing in your ears as he fought and ripped his way to you to no avail.

You went much more willingly, without hardly any fight at all as Cassius’ words sunk in, never letting your eyes leave his as hands similar to those that dragged Jake away pulled you in the opposite direction. You knew what he would choose. Jake had denied his council more than once already. You knew your fate. And as you were hauled away, gazing at Cassius unflinchingly while that smile returned to his face, you couldn’t help but wonder if Sam was happy with himself.

—

It was almost comical how cozy the room you had landed in was. They'd practically thrown you into it, a warm, golden-colored library that seemed so inviting when compared to the atrocities the council committed on a daily basis. You almost didn't even mind being locked away there, apart from the fact that you felt you'd go crazy sitting with your back to a tall shelf of books in a dreary silence as you wondered where Jake was and if he had ended up in an equally cozy room himself while hours ticked by.

You hoped he had. He deserved to spend his last moments in some kind of comfort, even if you desperately wanted to be the one to provide him with said comfort. It made you regret all the time you had spent running from him. All of the time you had wasted. If you had known this would be the outcome, you’d do it differently. If you had known your eternity together would be so short, you’d have cherished every moment you’d been given.

The sound of the door opening, the only door to the room, snapped your attention to the figure suddenly standing there. A familiar face amongst a sea of hostility.

“Danny,” you breathed, each of you crossing the room in a second to pull one another into an embrace.

“We came as fast as we could,” he answered with his lips pressed against your hair and his arms holding you tightly to him.

But you broke from his embrace to stare up at him.

"It was Sam. He told them about Jake turning me.”

You could tell he was fighting back his more immediate reaction to this news, looking stunned for only a fraction of a second before he shook it from his mind. Things he would deal with later, you presumed.

His hands landed on your biceps as he met your eyes and spoke almost frantically. "Y/n, they're going to kill you both. It's been decided. Josh is trying to talk them out of it now."

It was your turn to look stunned, the mention of Josh's name having done it. After all this time, after everything you had done, he had come back for you after all. Maybe you’d get to apologize to him before you died.

"Intervention,” you chuckled under your breath at the word Cassius had used, the one you had echoed. God, you had practically asked him to kill you.

“It won't work," was all you said as you pulled yourself from Danny's hands to pace about the room.

"Maybe we can sneak you to Jake to complete the ritual-"

"Sam can hear our thoughts. He’s probably relaying this all back to Cassius right now. He’ll never let it happen.” You turned around to face him again. “How is Jake? Have you been to see him?"

"Adele is with him."

You sighed, going back to your spot on the floor by the bookshelf and dropping down onto the marble floor heavily. And your thoughts circled just as endlessly as the room spun around you. "We were meant to spend an eternity together. Maybe if I hadn't been so stubborn-"

"This isn't your fault."

"It is my problem though."

Danny was on edge. You almost felt bad for him, seeing him standing there so helplessly, clearly not getting through to you. Although, that was hardly your fault. There was nothing to understand about the situation. Cassius saw the end. He would make it happen. Still, the way his shoulders slumped and his curls practically weighed themselves down along with his body as he sank to the floor in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel guilty for what this was doing to him.

"Adele was a lot like you when she was human,” Danny said quietly. “Very stubborn. Loyal. Fought the tie hard."

"But she came to you in the end," you finished it for him. The way it had happened. Not the ending you would get.

He nodded. "She did, she did. I'm just saying, it wasn't without a fight. She loved Sam deeply. And he didn't exactly make things easy for her."

You felt a deep sigh brewing in your chest, like a stress beginning to whistle inside your body, begging for you to let out some of the steam.

"Josh is a good person,” you answered, thinking of how he had come back to save you. And how you didn't deserve it. “If I could have chosen him, I would have."

"Is that the truth?"

Danny's question caught you off guard. But as you met his eyes, deep and imploring, you understood exactly what he was asking.

There was that sigh that had built. Except, instead of letting up on the pressure, it only seemed to add to the stress pulling your seams taught.

“Doesn't matter now,” you clenched your jaw hard thinking of the Sam you had known sitting in his rightful place on Cassius’ left. Where he clearly belonged. God, you hoped you didn’t cry. “He betrayed his own brother.”

Danny fell silent, watching you intently. He looked like he wanted to speak but he didn’t. He let the silence linger.

It gave you too much time to think about Sam. You’d tried to expel him from your mind when you’d been sitting there alone, thinking only of the way Jake had touched you earlier that night. Reveling in it. Reliving it. As many times as you could in the time you had left. But now it was Sam occupying your mind despite how hard you fought it.

You wondered what deal he had made with Cassius, why he had been so angry that he had ended up here in the first place. You wondered how he felt now, knowing you’d both die for it. Because of it. But more than anything, as you sat there silently, back propped up against books far older than you, maybe even far older than Danny, a world of history and lives lived and love loved, you longed for him.

"What are you going to do about him?" you asked without meeting Danny’s eyes, afraid of what he would see in yours if you did.

"There's nothing I can do, I don't think."

"You're his friend," you answered back, almost callously.

"I don't know if he still sees it that way," Danny admitted.

You felt your jaw clench.

“You gave up on him at some point,” you whispered suddenly as tears began to form in their usual place. “I see it. I feel it. You hide behind your tie like that's what stole you away-”

“You don't understand-” Danny tried to interject but you cut him off.

“He turned himself for you,” you spat finally. “You think you don't owe him anything? He gave up his life for you and then he gave up his love for you. He has given you everything!”

You could feel that familiar anger seething and spitting and spewing and desperately trying to claw its way out of you, weak as you were. But like this, Danny had no reason to fear you.

“He's the reason you're here,” he answered calmly, the only hint of his emotions being the wet glaze cast over his eyes that matched your own.

But not a single drop fell. Not from his eyes, anyway. And in the silence that clung to the air, uncomfortable and gnawing, Danny’s face seemed to wash over with realization.

“I can't believe I didn't see it,” he huffed out in exasperation, shaking his head lightly as his brows furrowed downard. “Adele tried to tell me; I told her she was crazy.”

You said nothing, rather opting to cast your eyes to the floor.

“But I see it now,” he continued. “Even after all of this. She was right. You love him.”

You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand, trying to dry them before they had a chance to fall and stain the floor with your remorse. And you sniffled back what emotions you could, pulling on your icy stare again and not caring that Danny could see right through you all of a sudden.

“Just don't abandon him again,” was all you said.

Danny looked like he was about to reach for you again when the door opened a second time, and this time the boy who stood in the doorway was much shorter than the last but with curls just as bouncy.

Josh.

There was only a moment of hesitation between you both before you found yourself in his arms, the tears finally falling when your face buried itself into the safety of the crook of his neck.

God, he practically felt warm. You had forgotten how comforting even just his presence was in the time that he had been gone but now with his arms wrapped around you, it was all you felt.

“I'm so sorry,” he mumbled against your shoulder where his head had dropped. “I’m so, so sorry. I should have been here. I never should have left. I thought I was doing you a favor.”

You couldn't even muster up the words, nothing but gentle sobs wracking your body as you longed to melt into him, to do nothing more than disappear where you stood in his arms and let that be your last memory.

Eventually though, it was the thought of your last moments and how you might spend them that forced you to dry your eyes and pull your head back to face him, just as teary-eyed as you.

He still looked like your Josh. He still smelled like your Josh. The pillowy skin of his lips and the rosiness his cheeks always carried despite being a vampire still sat warmly on his face but now, that toothy grin that had saved you from so much turmoil in the past was nowhere to be found. But even so, you found yourself forgiving him for all of the time he had missed.

His hands took your face between them and his thumbs seemed to strike over your face carefully to remember all the times they had done so under better circumstances.

“Cassius has already made up his mind,” he said as he held back his emotions rather clumsily. “Our only hope now is to break you both out of here.”

But you shook your head. “I don't think we can get out of this one.”

There were too many powerful beings at play, none of which now included you or Jake. You were exactly where Cassius wanted you and now, only a decision on his part could change that. But Josh didn't seem so ready to accept it.

“Don't say that. I'm not leaving you and Jake behind, do you hear me? I'm not losing you both.”

It was the way his voice cracked like Jake's usually did that shook the realization from you. Josh didn't have to lose you both. More importantly, he didn't have to lose his brother.

You took a step back from Josh, him and Danny both eyeing you carefully.

"They only need to kill one of us," you breathed out into the room.

"What?" Josh asked, his brows knitting together as he tried to understand where you were going with this, worried that he might have already known.

“If the other dies before they are bound, the one who survives weakens to the point of losing their gifts,” you explained. “That's what Jake said on the plane. With one of us gone, the other isn't a threat."

"Y/n, no-" Josh was quick to chime in with his disapproval but you continued, undeterred.

"We can still save Jake. If I'm gone, he won't be a threat to them. He'll lose his gifts and his tie. Surely Cassius will take that as payment for breaking the rules."

"He'll have no reason to live without you," Danny answered somberly from where he stood with his arms folded over his large chest. You could tell he was as equally displeased by the notion as Josh was but he was the one who could understand it the best. He would do anything for Adele, even this.

"I'm not going to let him die, Danny,” you shook your head, the tears finally drying on your cheeks and in your eyelashes as your decision became clear. “I won't let Josh lose something else."

But the curly-haired twin whose heart you had crushed looked even more devastated, taking you back between his hands to practically shake some sense loose. "Please don't do this. There's another way, we just have to find it."

You took his hands from your shoulders and cradled them before you in your palms. It was so weird to think of how far the two of you had been separated over the last two months, how you had gone from needing him to hardly even thinking about him. It felt so cruel now that you faced the idea of never seeing him again.

You owed that boy everything you could give him. Just the way Danny owed Sam, you owed Josh for everything you had put him through and everything he had done for you.

"He could live a life without me,” you said quietly as you studied his hands. “You both could."

He was already shaking his head vehemently.

"What makes you so sure I would want to?"

"This is all I can give you, Josh," you insisted. “Let me right all of my wrongs.”

Danny could see it now, your death set in stone, just as certain as the path you were on. You could tell by the way he was suddenly squeezing his eyes tightly shut, willing himself not to see it. It was how he had looked in the memory Sam had shown you after he had just turned, crouched and scared in the corner trying to hide from the things he didn’t want to see.

It was only when a commotion sounded from the hall that Danny’s eyes flew open again, searching for the cause. It had sounded almost like Sam although it was hard to tell through the racket. Maybe he had heard your plan just as Danny had seen it.

There was a layering of voices and what sounded to be feet moving, and suddenly the door was being pushed open by Marcus and another council member and you yet again found hands dragging you from your place.

This time when you entered the great hall, Sam looked forcibly sat in his seat, tears streaming steadily but silently down his face. Jake was dragged in soon after, the hands holding him clamping down much harder by the looks of it. You worried they'd break him if they held him any tighter.

And Cassius was at the center of it all, looking far more delighted than he had any business being.

“She has chosen to die for you!” he exclaimed from his throne, clasping his hands together with that eerie smile replaced on his lips.

One might have thought just looking at him that applause would be expected. But his words were only met with the sound of Jake screaming out and fighting against the vampires who held him back. And Sam, sitting up on his seat like the good little soldier he was, squeezed his eyes tightly shut as the tears streamed harder.

“My, you have enraptured so many hearts in your short life. I shall think of you often.” Cassius let his lips stretch even thinner before jumping up out of his seat and gliding over to where you stood, arms still clasped between cold hands now forcing you into a kneeling position.

When he reached you, he crouched down to meet you, lifting your chin with a single finger so as not to let you avoid the terror that was his eyes.

“I would be more than happy to do it, my dear,” he practically hissed.

“Don’t put your hands on her!” Jake screamed again, a sound that caused you to wince.

You couldn't let that be the last thing you heard before you died. It was too violent a sound to take with you to the grave.

Cassius glanced over to your tie with an annoyed look on his face.

“Let me touch her, please,” Jake pleaded, the pain in his voice surmounting until it cracked and fizzled and all but died in his throat. “Please,” he gave one last attempt, the sound barely audible in the room.

“You have no spark of power left in your body,” Cassius answered with a mean smile. “It would hardly do her any good.”

If you'd had your own gifts, you would have done it yourself. Jake was the second best, although to make him do it just felt cruel. And silently, you were thankful he couldn't. Surely that was a blessing, in the end.

But to die by Cassius or one of his minions felt a much more horrid way to go, your limbs being torn from your body, your head severed last. Or maybe they'd choose fire and there would be no escaping the blistering pain. You could be brave for Jake but the tears blurring your vision signaled to you and everyone else that you weren't nearly as ready for that as you had tried to believe.

That left only one capable of the task at hand: Sam.

You turned your eyes to his to silently plead with him. You spoke your thoughts as loudly as you could to force him to turn to you, to face you.

You watched his jaw tense and the red in his eyes grow angrier as you silently begged him to give you a more merciful death than Cassius would. He owed you, after all, didn’t he? If he could betray you so easily then surely he could do this, too.

If nothing else, you’d get to feel his hands again. Just one last time.

“I'll do it,” he said finally, reluctantly, through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”

Cassius stood and turned to him, seemingly surprised by what he heard though you suspected he wasn’t surprised by any of this.

“Now that I would like to see,” he grinned.

He dismissed Sam from his seat with a wave of two fingers, a signal to the vampire who seemed to be the only thing subduing him to let up his gaze and let Sam cross the room to you. And only the sound of Jake's repeated cries resonated about the room.

You didn't dare look over at him where he laid folded over on himself, having given up making his way to you in favor of chanting no over and over again until his voice hardly worked. You were thankful Josh couldn't see it. You hoped he was far enough away that he couldn't hear it, either.

When he met you on the floor, Sam's hands found your face, bringing your focus back to his tears instead.

“I'm so sorry,” he whispered.

It had been so long since you had heard that voice directed at you and only you. It had been even longer since you had felt him touch you in that way that he did that seemed to right every wrong. And truthfully, it brought you comfort even now, knowing he would shield you from everything the way he always had.

“Don't touch her,” you heard Jake croak out one last time.

It was the last thing you heard before Sam invaded your mind.

Suddenly it was his thoughts that you could hear, sounding all around you and making you feel as though you had immersed yourself in him amongst a sea of black.

He wasn't invading your mind, he was letting you invade his.

“Please don't make me do this, please don't make me do this, please don't make me do this-” His thoughts layered one over top of the other but the dominant one, the one that was directed at you, thought for you to hear, it came through clearly.

“I won't let it hurt. You'll just feel me.”

Even with your tie and the way it felt toward the end being with Jake, Sam was never truly gone. Danny and Adele had been right and you saw that now. You loved him. And had you not tied with Jake, you would have chosen him.

“I always feel you,” you thought.

Sam took you back to the cliffs, back beneath the waves where you had last felt so close to him. Only this time, when you gazed out into the deep gray ocean that bubbled angrily at its surface but shifted so serenely beneath, it was yourself that you found staring back at you. He had taken you into his mind and cradled you there in his memory of you. His favorite memory of you.

You floated curiously across from yourself until you watched the arm of the other you slice through the water like it moved through molasses. You watched it push the water from its path and reach out for you slowly, gliding through ocean to find you. But the moment you felt your hand on you, in a blink it was Sam now floating across from you and pulling you into him.

In the distance, somewhere from a place beyond where your mind now was, you felt a burning sensation, working from the edges and doing its best to wriggle deeper. Sam was turning your own body against itself, convincing the rest of your body that it was on fire. Attacking your physical form using your brain and shielding you from it at the same time by housing your soul within the safety of his own.

Back beneath the water, he intertwined your bodies easily, letting your arms circle his back to feel the muscles beneath his shoulder blades, letting your legs weave between his and your feet hook around his ankles. He brought you as close to him as he could manage, one hand tangled in your hair to keep your face there against him, the other wrapping around your waist to steady you even more. And then he plunged you both down, together, sinking like stone into the darkness of the water.

It was a quiet dance down into death, one that you made together. And it was easy. It was peaceful. It was just as calm as you had felt that day beneath the water, ready to let the current take you. He must have heard it. He must have known you'd drift away peacefully that way.

And you did.

If you had seen it from Jake's perspective, you would have known that Sam meant to kill himself alongside you, only pried away once you'd gone limp and Cassius became wise to what he was doing.

You would have seen the torment on Jake's face as Sam was ripped away from your body screaming to let him die and was cast out of the council for good.

You would have seen Jake run to you and hold you the way he had the night you laid lifeless in the street, no longer able to do anything about it as if he were always destined to watch you die, over and over again until it finally stuck.

And you would have seen the aftermath of grief as it further entangled the people you had left behind as they scattered like dust in the wind: one who had been mourning your loss longer than the others, one who could no longer live without you, and one who was now convinced that he didn’t have to, if he could only track down the right witch who had scorned him years ago.

Taglist: @gvfcinema @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @hippievanfleet @crossczeched48 @cassiesgreta @sunfl0wer-power @abby-gvf @joshkiszkasfoot @joshskittytickler @lightsofthe-living-gvf @i-choose-the-road @am-bam @alwaysdaydreamingoffiction @themoreyou-love @bumblebeewrites @coolmedown @sacredthesin @jonch-gvf @justdamnpeachy @fallenstar1708 @vanfleeter @laurengvf8 @allybtj @watching-over-hypegirl @hr33gvf @kaitburb @threadofstars @jennasometimesreads @samiiijones @jakekiszkasmommy @lallisonl @therobynsworld-blog @misshunnybee @sparrowofthedawnsworld @demonrat444 @malany-gvf @myownparadise96 @capturethechaos @st4rdust-ch0rds @montenegroisr @sacredjake @notthedroidz @sinarainbows @kissingthegoat @eraofstardustchords @cherryflo @blacksoul-27 @lyndz2names @earthgrlsreasy @gvfmarge @carlyfleet @thetroublegetssoloud71 @withlovegvf @suzi107 @gracev0609 @objectsinspvce @kissakiszka @amorlizette @stardustcatcher @notsostrangerthing @brokebellsgvf @sweet1squash @imleavingyoufornewyork @lipstickitty @mavvanfleet

[thesith]

— Chapter One: Unorthodox

Bedtime Story Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The Force ached with emptiness around you. You were taught to not form attachments and that they lead you to the dark side, but how could you not when you’re living with someone, meditating with them for hours on end, going to war with them by your side?

Losing her was like drowning - one minute you were breathing in the air around you, feeling the sun shining on your skin, the next you were pulled by an unyielding force into water and dragged beneath the surface, any remnants of the sun fading from view, the ocean nulling your senses.

The return to Coruscant was painful - you were leaving behind the closest thing you had to a parent on some backwater planet, teeming with Separatists and their army of droids. As the planet faded from view, you couldn’t help but breathe in the water that surrounded you- the first painful inhale of many.

Upon arrival, you were ushered from the landing pad into the temple toward the High Council room - a multitude of Jedi Masters and holos of those away greeted you, all holding the same look of despair.

“Padawan, we are sorry for your loss,” a holo of Ki-Adi Mundi began, “We understand losing your master is difficult. Counselling services will be offered by temple healers to assist in the healing process.”

Master Kenobi glanced at Master Mundi’s holo before turning to you, “Master Umbari was a dear friend and valiant warrior. Her efforts will not be in vain, nor will yours.”

“What happens now? Where do we go from here?” As a senior Padawan, you were sure they’d let you take the trials - a look from Master Windu was all it took to tell you that was not the plan.

“As we find a new Master to finish your training, you’ll be assigned to one of our clone units.”

A look of confusion crossed over your face, a clone unit?

“This unit is a special case, as are you,” Master Fisto started, looking between you and Master Yoda, “You are being assigned to Clone Force 99 - a four man squad with desirable enhancements.”

“Isn’t this unorthodox?” You questioned, looking around the room for an answer.

“Losing a master at this stage in a Padawan’s training is not common and usually we’d be able to find a master within days of passing, but circumstances are not the same as they were years ago. We’re fighting a war, Padawan. Jedi are scattered across the galaxy, and we need all capable hands on the front lines.”

The next few days were agonizingly slow. Sleeping in your quarters without your Master a room over, counselling sessions with healers, individual training - repetitive days, lonely nights.

When Master Yoda summoned you, you didn’t know what to expect. It wasn’t common to be summoned directly by the Grand Master, but you started to understand nothing was mundane in your life.

“Troubled, you are.” The green man greeted you, leaning on his walking stick, “Wondering why you are not to take the trials?” He motioned to a seat across from his own, which you gladly sat in.

“Yes, Master.”

“Think you are ready, we do not. Proven yourself to have much potential, you have, but finished your training, you have not.”

Later that day, you were escorted to an odd-looking ship with four men standing in front of it. A tall and skinny one with a toothpick in his mouth, one with the worst posture you’d ever seen holding a datapad, a larger one with a lot of muscle, and one with long hair and a bandana on his forehead.

“You our Jedi?” The one with the red bandana asked, eyeing your frame.

A scoff came from the man with a toothpick, “Of course they are, Hunter. Why else would they be standing here wearing that?” He pointed at your outfit with his toothpick - how odd.

You looked down at your robes before catching his scowling eyes.

“That is the customary garb of the Jedi, whose origins are dated to be from millennia ago.” The hunched figure addressed your outfit and returned to his datapad, not once meeting your eyes.

“Don’t’cha ever trip on those? They look flowy… and long. Dangerous if ya’ ask me.”

The leader placed a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples, “Sorry ‘bout them. We don’t usually work with Jedi.” He looked up at you, “I’m Hunter. They’re Crosshair, Tech, and Wrecker.” He motioned to each member as he spoke their respective names.

“Clone Force 99, then?” You’d heard rumors of Clone Trooper 99’s heroic deeds from your old unit, “I like the 99. Nice touch.”

That earned you smiles from your new squadmates, which you took as a sign of appreciation. You introduced yourself before heading into your new ship, which was a big change from the Venator class you were used to. Oh, how you’d miss the Valiance.

“How’d you get stuck with us anyway? You piss someone off?” The one known as Crosshair asked with his arms crossed, toothpick sweeping in his mouth.

Your eyes quickly made their way to his tall stature, unknowingly narrowing in the process. “I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“Aw, sensitive subject?” He teased, “It is my business - you’re living on my ship with my squad.” He pushed, obviously wanting some sort of reaction - you refused to give him the satisfaction.

While crafting a retort, Hunter stepped in.

“Cut it out, Crosshair.” He used his authoritative tone to call his brother off, apologizing to you once the taller clone exited the room. “He has a thing for getting a rise out of people - don’t take it personally.”

“Note taken. Thanks for the warning.”

Hunter left for you to settle yourself into your new bunk, located right above Wrecker’s. It took you one night to notice why nobody’d taken residence above him before - his snoring was louder than a fully-grown rancor.

After finally getting to sleep by tuning out the snores and fixating on the calming lull of the ship’s engine, you were woken up by Hunter.

“Hey, it’s our shift.” He whispered to you, shaking your arm lightly.

It took everything in you to not shove his hand from your bicep and go back to sleep. Instead, you made your way down from your bunk, losing your footing on the landing. Hunter quickly placed a hand on your back and grabbed your shoulder to stabilize your body.

Once two feet were on the ground, you whispered a “thanks” and made your way to the cockpit, bidding a goodnight to an exhausted Tech. You took a seat in the co-pilot’s chair, leaving Hunter to sit next to you.

It felt like ages with no conversation before you spoke, breaking the silence. “Do you think it’s normal for Padawans to be sent with a special-ops squad? Jedi aren’t really known for going on covert missions - the lightsaber is kind’ve a dead giveaway.”

Hunter seemed surprised at your conversation starter and thought about your question, “I wouldn’t say abnormal, but unusual circumstances call for unusual resolutions.”

“Do you think it’s a bad thing?” You asked before quickly correcting yourself, “not that you guys are bad or anything!” You waved your hands, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. “Do you think it’s bad that I needed such a resolution? The Jedi don’t go off-book and this is everything but textbook.”

“No, I don’t think it’s bad. It’s just… different. Think of it as being sent on a mission - your mission for the time being is with us.”

The remainder of your shift the two of you engaged in small-talk - speculating about missions you’d be sent on along with their squad’s unorthodox techniques.

”The Council mentioned that your squad has enhancements - what exactly did they mean?” You asked, not understanding what makes them different from other clones (except for the obvious differences in appearance.)

“Crosshair has better-than perfect eyesight - he’s an incredible sniper. Can hit a target from 10 klicks away, if not further.” Hunter went on and explained the enhancements of his two other brothers as you intently listened.

“If Crosshair has good sight, Tech’s intelligent, and Wrecker is strong, what’s your enhancement?” You asked, realizing the Sergeant didn’t speak on his own abilities.

“I have enhanced senses.”

You deadpanned at his bare face, “That’s it? You explained the roles of the three others, but what about your own?”

“I can feel electromagnetic frequencies - Tech likes to say I’m more accurate than a map.” Hunter laughed to himself, “I’m like a tracker, hence my name.”

“I see. I thought you were going to say that patience is your enhancement - your crew seems… interesting.”

“Our crew.” He corrected you, “Any chance they told you what your rank is with us? In the GAR you’re a Commander, but we don’t really… adhere to the norms of other squads.”

You took a moment to think, “I’m actually not sure, but I know from our few conversations that I wouldn’t mind following you into battle. Even if I do technically outrank you.”

“And that makes you different from other Jedi. Most would be offended at being seemingly demoted, even more so by following a clone’s orders.” Hunter moved his gaze from your face to the stars you were passing by, taking in the view.

“This never gets old.”

Hunter looked toward the sleeping Omega before returning to the cockpit, settling in his seat next to Tech.

“What fantastical story are you feeding the child?” Tech asked, facing his newly-returned brother.

“The story of the Commander.”

[imharnaannesta]

You know what would’ve solved almost all of my problems with the Jedi and Qui-Gon Jinn in particular in The Phantom Menace?

If they just tested Anakin’s blood after getting on the fucking ship.

Literally all the other story beats could work without his force sensitivity as a motivation and his force sensitivity being the motivation for those story beats makes them feel super weird and exploitative.

Like, Shmi and Qui-Gon could have had a chat about human rights and child welfare instead of his little spiel about how they would’ve noticed Anakin as a baby if he were born in the republic. Shmi has plenty of reason to ask Qui-Gon to get her son to the republic, where he would be a person, who presumably has rights (although the movies never really address that directly (how does voting in the republic work? Can Jedi vote? I don’t know)), and who wouldn’t be forced to compete in wildly dangerous races. Shmi could beg Qui-Gon to get Anakin off Tatooine and Qui-Gon and Padme have good reason to agree. Anakin is volunteering to do something extremely dangerous for them with no expectation of a reward. They owe him.

Then Qui-Gon has a clear reason, other than Anakin’s chosen one potential, to manipulate the dice roll in favor of Anakin. He’s essentially been asked to.

Anakin proceeds to win and maybe then give an indication that he suspects something.

Anakin says goodbye to his mother not expecting to become a Jedi but still intending to come back for her.

Then on the ship Qui-Gon has Obi-Wan run Anakin’s blood test, and that’s when they realize that they have stumbled across a child who is possibly the chosen one and, if nothing else, far too powerful to lose track of.

It would make Qui-Gon seem a lot less like he was dangling the idea of safety for Shmi’s son in front of her to get his hands on the chosen one if he doesn’t know until after. Plus it solves my issue of him not explaining what being a Jedi involves or that the council might not want to accept him to Anakin because, again, he doesn’t know Anakin’s potential until they’re on the ship at which point he’s got a lot going on with the whole Sith thing. And it solves my issue of him being totally ready to shove Obi-Wan into his trials and ask him to take Anakin on as he dies because instead of deciding to bring an extremely powerful child, who is too old, traumatized, and very attached to his mother, before the council, knowing how they’ll likely respond, without a plan that doesn’t involve jumping to replace Obi-Wan while Obi-Wan is still his Padawan. Instead he can’t let the child they separated from everything and everyone he’d ever known without knowing how powerful he could become disappear into the general population, especially suspecting that the Sith have made a comeback.

When he knows before taking Anakin off Tatooine it feels like he’s really motivated by Anakin’s potential rather than Anakin’s best interest. And it makes the Jedi council’s reluctance less damning to me if there was a plan to ensure Anakin was cared for before Qui-Gon realized his potential. When it seems like Qui-Gon wanted Anakin for his potential the Council’s refusal to take him feels a lot like a refusal to take accountability for Qui-Gon’s actions, when as an organization they are at least somewhat responsible for ensuring that members of their organization aren’t doing things like manipulating vulnerable women in dangerous situations to give their child up and then trying to get them into the order based on their potential power despite them not being an appropriate candidate and without any alternate plan for their care.

[myfckingnameisnuwanda]

Handyman (Merthur)

Arthur notices that, when he complains to Merlin about something, anything, it mysteriously gets resolved within a week.

-> A small town in the outskirts of the kingdom is requesting food for the winter, since their crops burned down at the hands of bandal? And he doesn't have enough to spare? Oh, look, this theifs that assaulted a village in another kingdom and took their food, goods and money were found trying to cross the borders towards Cenred's kingdom, the knights have taken all their loot and are currently distributing it to the town.

-> There is a trial; a woman, a peasant, is accusing this noble of rape, but we don't have any proof or witnesses, what do I do, Merlin? She will lose. Well would you look at that, the noble, drunk out of his mind, has confessed his crimes in front of a whole bar full to the brim of people. Make sure he regrets it till the end of his days.

-> One of the nights has died, he was an only father, since his wife died due to a disease. The kid is now an orpha. I made him an orphan, what the fuck do I do? Oh my, one of the cooks, a widow, has suddenly found an interest on the child and is filled with motherly love. You have to approve the adoption, sire. Also, who tf said it was your fault.

-> An old man has died and now his descendants are fighting for the lands he owned. He had seven children, Merlin, and they are all so loud. Haha, Arthur, you won't believe what happened, three of the men have decided they no longer want the lands and the hard work they require, and have decided to follow a career on other options, like a priest, a teacher, a hunter or a carpenter. Two of the other men want to become knights and fight for the safety of the kingdom, now that peasants are allowed to try, and the remaining two have divided the lands on two, peacefully. How lucky!

-> There was a forest fire close to the capital and we are incredibly low on animals near us, hunters are complaining non-stop, they have to travel for weeks to find prey, including me! Well, maybe you and all those hunters should take a liking to herbal-related foods. We have enough beans and cereals to replace the meat lost for now. Meeerlin. Ugh. Arthur, guess what! There was a very rough winter at the north and all kinds of animals are migrating to Camelot, birds most of them, get your bow ready! You get my bow ready.

-> There are bandits continuously assaulting traders in the roads between kingdoms. I'm trying to reach queen Annis but it seems she is low on knights to dispatch them out. Oh, your lucky strike seems with no end, Arthur, as the bandits have already been captured by your knights. The traders are safe, once more. But maybe it would be wise to talk with the Queen about letting willing talented young commoners to join her army.

-> Merlin, the Council is demanding that I settle again. I don't believe there is anything I can do about it, sire. I believe you can.

[windona]

For prompting night: a choice between 'Sokka discovers social media' (which would probably be a disaster lol) or 'a council of avatars probably not providing the best advice' (you know why). lol

Aang sighed. He had run all over the world, learned well from the monks, but he was no expert in politics and economics. Yet he was one of the few people who understood what a world at peace actually looked like, and the few who could be looked at as a trustworthy authority to all nations.

For a given value of trustworthy, Aang supposed.

Despite everyone looking at him, Aang knew he was not an expert at bureaucracy and politics and money. Luckily, he knew some who were.

He meditated, and looked as his past lives from the previous cycle spread out in front of him.

Roku looked to the side, then at him. "You require our advice, Aang?"

Aang nodded. "The Republic is a new and fragile experiment. There is also the peace between the Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom at stake. They keep on talking about tax rates and trade routes, and I know they are important, but even Toph only knows so much about how it works and what's fair. Representatives are at each other's throats and getting ready to fight over it. What do I do?"

Roku stroked his beard. "Be decisive. Make sure that they settle on a plan, and stick to it."

Kuruk shook his head. "No, it sounds like they are just making threats to get more concessions. I know going with the flow was my biggest mistake, but people will work things out if you let them."

Kyoshi nodded sharply. "Be the end of diplomacy if you have trouble with politics. Working out solutions and deals are their job, their training. If they fail, come in full force as a threat to remind them the price of failing in their duty."

Yangchen shook her head. "No, you need to actively shape your destiny and the destiny of the world. Aang, make use of any assets and spies you have. If you have none, try developing a network so you have access to accurate information and know what pressure to apply. Keep a few cover identities in case one loyal to you is burned, or needs a new cover identity."

The other three looked at her. She raised an eyebrow back in challenge.

Coughing, Roku turned back. "Perhaps you should ask the Fire Avatar before me, Avatar Szeto."

"Would he understand the laws and regulations of Aang's time?" Kyoshi frowned.

"He would be better equipped than us."

Aang tilted his head. "Avatar Szeto? Didn't he write laws or something?"

"'Or something'. Through my reforms, the Fire Nation was able to achieve stability, and they were adopted elsewhere." Aang turned around to see another of his past lives. "My skill lies in administration. Tell me, Aang, what trials do you face?"

Much later, everyone would remark in amazement as Avatar Aang managed to make a deal that would encourage economic growth within the Republic, Fire Nation, and Earth Kingdom areas that traded with each other.

[fionajames]

OR IF MY PREVIOUS REQUEST IS TOO HARD, (hello again btw) what if Ahsoka never left the order? 🤔🤔🤔🤔🤨🤨🤨

Like, she accepted the council’s invitation back into the Jedi. Did she still meet Bo-Katan and go to Mandalore?

This was a last minute idea that popped into my brain, and I’d like to see your thoughts on this. Ngl, this would be an actual amazing fic, and if anyone could pull it off, it’s you.

Sincerely, Sha 🫡

PS: Your work is amazing 🤩

hello sha!!!!!!!! and hello to everyone else!!!

i rlly love this idea and please if you want a part two request it, i apologise that this is so short.

(edit: I JUST POSTED THIS LIKE 2 MINS AGO AND I REALISED I FORGOT SMTH. YEAH, SO, YKNOW HOW I WAS DOING A 30 DAY WRITING THING AND ON DAY 2 STOPPED POSTING? MHM, WE'RE GONNA PRETEND THAT DIDNT HAPPEN. THIS IS DAY 2. THE PROMPT IS 'Accusation' AND THE ACCUSATION IS NOT IN THIS BUT RELVENT CAUSE YK YK YK HER TRIAL SO YEAH)

Ahsoka watched as the sun set in front of her, feet dangling off the edge of the Jedi Temple wall. Her Padawan braid - still gripped tightly in her hand - felt heavy with thoughts of doubt. Had she made the right choice by staying?

Coruscant had never looked more intense than it had whilst she was on the run, and she’d never experienced the lower levels like that before. Her heart cried for the small wisps of freedom she’d felt while running through the streets, unbound by the ties of the Jedi - free at last. She hated that she’d liked it so much - the taste of freedom, the taste of a life where she wasn’t a Padawan.

But, how could she leave her family? She couldn’t.

Ahsoka stood up as she pocketed her Padawan braid, not quite ready to put it back on. She strolled to Anakin’s room quickly, knocking on his door thrice. He opened it immediately and gave her a grin.

“I think I’m going to go for a walk,” she told him as they silently and in-sync linked their comms just-in-case. “Need some air.”

“Alright, Snips,” he told her fondly. Anakin spotted the missing Padawan braid but didn’t say anything. “Have fun, please come back.”

Ahsoka nodded, not smiling as she left. She made her way through the Temple quickly, breathing in huge gulps of air as she did. With no destination in mind, Ahsoka set off into the streets of Coruscant.

                                          -

It had been months since the Trial, and Ahsoka still wasn’t fully herself again. Anakin was worried, and Obi-Wan was sorrowed. Rex hadn’t left her side. Except, for when she went on her walks.

Ahsoka had made it a regular thing to go on a walk through Coruscant when she was home, and she was quickly learning her way around. Today, she was bounding from house to house just below the surface, laughing as her speed made her lekku flow in the wind.

She landed safely on a platform, dangling her feet over the edge to watch the traffic. Someone walked up beside her and through the Force, Ahsoka could feel their good-intentions. She didn’t move.

“Rather beautiful, isn’t it?” A sort-of-familiar voice spoke up and Ahsoka turned to see Bo-Katan sitting beside her. “My home planet was.”

“What happened to it?” Ahsoka asked, gazing back at the mesmerising lights and darkening sky. Before the bombing, she would’ve been alert and perhaps hostile at the return of the Mandalorian, now, she was just calm. She’d grown a lot in maturity, and she could tell it scared Anakin.

“A Sith has taken over Mandalore, and has enslaved my people,” Bo-Katan told her mournfully - yet with her voice un-shaking and strong. “He killed their ruler - my sister.”

Ahsoka turned to her with a face of soft sorrow and sympathy. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” she told the woman whose eyes squinted ever-so-slightly in surprise.

“I want you to help me,” Bo-Katan told her firmly. “I’ve seen you, you’re courageous and smart. My people need help.”

“Who is this Sith you speak of?” Ahsoka asked, crossing her arms. 

“His name is Maul.”

Ahsoka froze as a ripple of shock went up her spine. She’d heard of him of course - the Sith that had killed Obi-Wan's Master, the Sith who'd returned from the dead more-or-less recently. Former Sith, actually, but that didn’t matter.

“I will help you,” Ahsoka told her after a minute of thinking. She stood up and so did her ally. They shook hands firmly before parting ways. Ahsoka walked back to the Temple with her brows furrowed and hands clutching her lightsabers. 

As she walked, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the small, beaded braid. Ahsoka reached up behind her lekku and secured the braid onto her headdress.

She was going to help Bo-Katan, no matter what.

hope you all enjoyed!!!!!! yes, apparently, im back.

request people!!!!!!!

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

A Sisters Love Sequel

You could almost laugh at the enforcers escorting you.

Each cautious of you, even in cuffs.

Some when you were in a cell had even shit talked about you, Silco and Jinx.

That didn't go over well, especially since they had to come into your cell to give you meals.

But now, here you were.

Handcuffed and shackled at the waist, arms and legs as you headed to the top.

You were being sentenced today, by shit for brain councilors, at that.

"Walk." An enforcer ordered, shoving you closer to the middle of the room.

It almost looked like you were on display, displayed as one of the most wanted Undercity residents.

From the whispers that you could hear once they heard your chains clicking, you could tell you had an audience.

The enforcer led you to the middle, standing you still as they tightened your cuffs.

"Don't try to pull anything." The obvious woman under the mask sneered.

"Me? Never." You mused with a smirk, only infuriating the enforcer more.

But they couldn't do shit to you. Not in front of your admires.

It was pitch black in the tower, barely able to see In front of you.

But as a light shone above you, whispers flickered throughout the entire tower.

All you could do was smile at them all, even with their disgusted eyes judging you.

You looked at every councilor, picking each apart until you got to Jayce.

The man just stared at you, but you could see the slight fear and disgust in them.

"Do you know why you are here today?" A sudden voice called out.

It was the councilor Mel Medarda, you'd heard of her from down below.

"Don't you have a list or something?" You shrugged, feeling too tired and annoyed to answer.

"Yes, we do. We just need a verbal answer." Medarda continued, her professionalism almost making you puke.

"Murder, explosives, theft, treason, plotting, other bullshit I can't remember…" you trailed off, almost laughing at the horror on the citizens faces.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself? Or for your companion?" Jayce asked, catching your attention.

You finally got angry, him telling the council Jinx was dead was part of your deal.

The guy seemed to fucking lazy to even hold up his end.

"Jinx is dead." You sneered, hearing the whispers disperse as they listened.

"I'm the one who is on trial, not her." You finished, shrugging off the man's glare.

"Again, do you have anything to say for yourself before you are sentenced?" Council Medarda cut in.

You sighed, not angry or tired, just utterly annoyed at the fucking inconvenience.

"What's the point? I did what I did against your bitch ass city. Get over it."

You heard the gasps at your language at the councilors, but who the hell cares?

You quite actually giggled at the citizens gasps and the arrogant councilors faces.

"Your city is full of assholes who spit on my people for years. I did what I did to fuck over your city for ruining lives, do you expect me to apologize?"

"Watch your mouth!" A councilor man finally stood up, angered at your words as an enforcer held his shoulder.

"Or what? Whatcha gonna do? Bite me?" You teased, laughing at his face.

"Enough!" Jayce exclaimed, seemingly as fed up with this all also.

"You," He turned a pointed look at you, getting a smile in return.

"Are sentenced to Stillwater Prison where you belong, where you will rot for the rest of your life."

Jayce finally finished, waiting for a reaction from you but merely getting a yawn.

Jayce shook his head, looking around as the citizens all looked ready to spit on you.

You simply waved your fingers at them all, holding out your cuffed hands to be dragged away.

You were escorted by more enforcers than before, surrounded as angry citizens tried getting to you.

You laughed at the whole ordeal, waving at them like some sort of celebrity.

Butt, you sorta were right now, weren't you?

Finally you got outside and the fun ended.

"Get in." An enforcer pulled open a car door, another shoving you inside.

You rolled your eyes at them before getting situated yourself.

Other enforcers joined you before the van finally started, looking out the window you could tell you were headed for the shore.

You had to cross with a boat to get to the prison, maybe you can throw an enforcer or two down into the water.

But that thought was quickly put to rest once you heard a deafening boom and the van stop.

Enforcers all looked around confused before another went off, right next to the van.

They all looked at you once you laughed at their horror.

"Never been through this before?" You asked, just as the van's doors were pulled open.

You could see rubble everywhere, fires started and most of all, Sevika was there to pull you out of the van.

"Get your ass out here, Kid." Sevika threw. "Gladly." You smiled, slipping out your handcuffs and ankle shackles.

You'll lazer the others off.

Sevika grabbed your arm and helped you down from the van, just for you to see Silcos goons helping distract enforcers.

Just as you got out the van and far enough away, the enforcers stuck in there were blown to bits.

You watched happily as the van burnt up in flames before you heard a yell.

"(Name)! Did you see that?! I did that?!" You turned around with a smile to see Jinx.

Silco stood there with her, both watching you before Jinx ran.

You followed her lead, meeting her in the middle with a hug as Silco joined.

"Why'd you give yourself up for me?!" Jinx exclaimed, pulling away from the hug to punch your chest with tears welled.

"Cause I knew there would be a plan, plus, your explosives work better than mine."

You laughed, pulling Jinx's hands from punching you as you made her look at you.

"Were you treated well?" Silco finally asked, inspecting you for injuries.

"They were too afraid to do anything." You shrugged, getting a nod from Silco.

You knew he would never do it so you did it yourself.

You hugged the man. Feeling him tense before relaxing, Jinx joined you.

The man stood there with his hands at his sides for a moment.

Then he finally allowed himself to hug his daughters back.

"Come on. No need to linger." Silco finally cleared his throat after a minute.

"Oh! Come on, (Name)! He got new goons we can bother." Jinx excitedly told you as the other goons who dealt with the enforcers began to disperse.

"I just wanna sleep." You complained, being dragged back to the Undercity where you belong.

"Too bad. Well watch the news later."

You did, in fact, watch the news.

It told the terrible story on how enforcers we're killed by Undercity citizens angry at your arrest.

And enforcers and you, were killed in the chaos.

People mourned the enforcers while celebrating your death.

But you weren't really dead, were you?

[kingdomhate]

First Glance (Part Ten)

Today was the day! The day in which you were to regain your much needed freedom and the Jedi Orders trust. You were up at dawn, going over your sparring skills, of course the nerves had gotten to you again, and it made you jittery.

However, you were determined to regain your previous rank as a dedicated Jedi padawan and the trustworthy, hard-working and eager padawan of Mace Windu. As you get dressed and pack the needed supplies for your trip, you go down to meet with the rest of the Jedi, immediately going to the Temple, knowing there was bound to be a meeting for your mission. Right you were, when you entered there was Ki-Adi, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Yoda, Obi-Wan and Windu.

"Y\n. There you are. Are you ready to discuss your mission?" You nod, trying to supress your eagerness and enthusiasm. "First things first, you are on this mission because we saw immense improvement in your behavior and attitude. You are now more attuned to the Force than ever. Also, because you are to take the trials to become a Jedi Mistress." Windu tells you, his eyes stoic but a hint of pride in them, hidden. "I do believe you are ready." Obi-Wan smiles at you. "I've seen you grow. I am sure you will be an excellent Jedi Mistress, Y\n."

You smile back, the compliments and approvings of the Masters boosting your confidence. "You are to go to Kamino in a few hours, depending if you have your supplies or not." You nod, locking your hands together. With a curt nod from the Council, you are dismissed. On the way back to your quarters, you are met with a perplexed Anakin. At the sight of him you jump, but at the sound of his voice it's as if you are grounded. "You're leaving?" He asks, his tone bitter as he fiddles with the makeup and perfume sets of yours.

"Yes. Anakin, I have to." You try to explain to him in the best way possible, but he isn't having it. "Do you know not understand what you are to me? What you leaving means to me?" He snapped at you. You gazed at him in disbelief and shock. "So what? I can't have what I want? What I deserve?" You shoot back at him, both of your tones loud and venomous. "Y\N, you and I know better! You're only doing this to leave me!" Anakin snarls at you, his eye twitching in pure anger. "Why would I want to leave someone I can't be with in the first place?!" At this, Anakin stares at you in annoyance, not understanding your words, or at least not in the rage he's in. Without a second glance, he storms out of your room, striding away.

With a grumble of bubbling rage, you slam your door shut, sitting down forcefully on your vanity chair, trying to regulate your intense anger. "He doesn't understand.." You sigh to yourself, gazing at your reflection. "I need this. I need a break." And with that self-assurance, you pack the needed supplies for your mission, including your Jedi robes. You walk out to your spaceship, issued by Chancellor Palpatine, because of the importance of your mission. "Y\n. A moment, please?" Calls your master, who is standing beside your ship, sauntering over toward him you reply, "Yes, Master?"

"I'd like for you to keep this," He hands you a small device, with a built in microphone, like a miniature walkie-talkie. "It's a radio." You take it, examining it's silvery-gray complex and the barely noticeable microphone hidden in the very front of the device. "Stay in contact." He commands you firmly, and with a nod, you board the ship. Blasting yourself into the skyline of Coruscant quickly, using your map, you calculate the fastest and most efficient ways to get to Kamino as quick as possible. Once you do, you set course for it, passing by other planets and stars as you begin your journey.

Watching you leave, Windu goes back into the Temple. But the one person who seemed too arrogant and stubborn to watch you go was Anakin. Staying cooped up in his room, disassembling his lightsaber and then reassembling it with skillful hands, trying to calm himself in the only way he knows. Of course, your words are of no significance to him, he finds himself drifting to the days where you both were on Tatooine, where nothing else seemed to matter, only two months ago, you both were on the sandy and hot surface of the desert-like planet, strengthening your once nonexistent bond to a steely friendship. Oh, how he missed those days.. the sight of you with him every day, helping him through the worst pain known to him, smiling at him, reassuring him, showing him compassion he wasn't sure he could ever find from anyone or anywhere else, he felt himself falling more and more into the depths of forbidden attachment and love, all despite his seemingly firey and distanced outer shell. Only you could do this to him. Only you.

Within hours, you landed on the contant storming planet of Kamino, the large body of water below you thrashing violently and rain whipping at whatever it could. As you land, you study what you can from the planet, so very unique from your normally sunny life on Coruscant, so threatening. Approaching the sliding glass door, with your obvious Jedi attire, the beaded padawan braid occasionally smacking you in your cheek from the harsh winds, the custom cloak of yours, acting much like a sanctuary for the droplets more so then to keep your body and clothes dry, flailing uncontrollably against the threatening winds. A woman can be seen also approaching the door, from the inside, her skin was a pale lavender, wearing a white type of dress and with probably the longest neck you've ever seen, activates the automatic door, inviting you in. "Hello. We've been expecting you." She tells you in what couldn't be farther from a 'warm' tone, gesturing for you to enter, once you do, the doors close.

"Hello." You greet her back, dumbfounded at what you are seeing but nonetheless going with it. "The Prime Minister has been waiting to speak to you." She leads you to a seperate, glowing white room, inside, is a large male with the same features as the woman but a black and grey dress, standing to shake your hand. "Hello. Lama Su." He introduces himself, extending his ridiculously large arm and hand toward your smaller one. "Y\N." You say in reply, shaking his hand modestly. He gestures to a seat as he sits down as well. "We have been informed you are here on a mission from the Jedi Order as a Padawan?" You nod. "Yes, of Mace Windu." Lama nods, clasping his hands together above his lap. "You are here to collect the clone army, correct?" He asks. "Yes, I am." You confirm. "Let us show you." He stands up, the woman taking a step toward the two of you, gesturing for you to go first. Following Lama, he tells you about the building, how he came to become in charge of it and what it is for, you glance around in awe as you take in the grand and unmissable walls, flooring and even railing of the building.

Leading you up a flight of stairs, you find yourself awestruck at the sight of thousands of people being made, yes, manufactured. "Here they are. Our own personal army." He announces proudly, glancing at the sight as if he were a father onlooking his son. "A-and these clones, this army, they are cloned from whom?" You question, unable to take your eyes off the sight. "He's here." Lama leads you to a bedroom, which is maked "Jango Fett". Knocking on it, an older man answers, he is about mid age, a slight bit of brown hair, but dark skin, painted with scars and scratches. "Yes?" He calls out gruffly. "Hello, Jango. This is the Jedi who will be taking your army." Jango glances at you, and you swear you see some type of malice in them as he nods to Lama. "That is all, Jango." Lama speaks, turning away to lead you back to the main room.

At the last step, Lama and the woman gesture for you to enter first and you do, taking your seat as they follow. "That is all we have to answer. But if your master and the Jedi demand more, please let them understand it will take a considerable amount of time." You nod to the Prime Minister. "I shall. But, before I go, may I.... take another look at the army? They're very fascinating." Lama nods, gesturing an arm toward the door, getting up, you realize neither Lama nor the woman are following you, so walking out to the same spot, alone, pulling out the radio device.

"Hello?" You call into it, and almost instantly get a response. "Yes, Y\N?" Answers the voice of your master. "I have made contact. The clone army is ready, they have thousands. They wish to let you know they have the resources to make more, but the time will be considerable." You report into the microphone. "I understand. Have you found anything suspicious?" With that, you feel an unsettling feeling, letting go of the button you need to communicate, you jerk your head and body to turn so you can look back. But as soon as you do, you wish you didn't. "Ah, Y\N."

.

.

.

Tags:

@sweetcheesecakesblog

@haydenpookiebear

Note: Prolonged, yeah, I know. But here it is. Just an FYI, these events are all linked to the events of Star Wars Episode II: Attack of The Clones. Spoilers are advised, but more so for the earlier parts, but for the upcoming parts as well.

[susiequaz12]

Solomon and Lo- Marlowe the Immortal, Vampire AU

Here's the next chapter in Sol and Lo's story. Marlowe (Lo) is a nonbinary immortal, who fell in love with a vampire. Their previous chapter is here. Masterlist is here. CW: Vampire whumpee, it as a pronoun, restraints, drugging, angst, dehumanization. (Vampires are seen as animals and treated as such.)

Marlowe was sleeping when it happened. They had just settled down for the night, drifting off as Solomon was washing up from dinner when there was a pounding on the door, and footsteps barging in. 

There was shouting, the clanging of dishes and Lo was jumping out of bed, rushing into the living room. 

The pot from dinner was on the ground in the doorway of the kitchen, the leftover soup spilling out onto the floor. Scattered voices broke through Lo’s panic as they realized the living room was full of people. Lo’s eyes scanned over the faces, settling on one man in particular, and their heart dropped as recognition came to their mind. 

He had the same cold look in his eyes, a scruff on his chin, a scar on the side of his neck. He wore a long cotton jacket, a simple linen shirt and pants with boots almost up to his knees. 

This was the same man- the one that had been driving the wagon. The man who had dragged that other poor vampire back to his owner and thrown him onto the ground, shaking and trembling. 

There were two other men behind him, dressed in dark cloaks, blocking off the front doorway to the house. Solomon stood in the entrance to the kitchen, holding the knife that he had been washing from dinner, panic written all over his face, two other men standing over him from behind. 

“What is going on?” Marlowe demanded, glancing between the men, and Solomon, hoping someone would have an explanation that didn’t lead to where Lo was thinking. 

“Ah good evening, Marlowe, I am Ivan Shaw, I’m sure you’ve seen me around town. I’m here to inform you that your vampire is under orders for retraining. We are here to collect it and see that the necessary measures are taken in order for it to be deemed fit to be placed back in society.”

Lo’s heart sunk into their stomach.

“What orders? What did he do?” Lo was panicking- trying to remain calm- trying to get answers but the look on Sol’s face said he was ready to use that knife in his hand and do what it took to get out of there. 

“You’ll find it all right here. We’ll need you to sign it over into our care of course, but if you refuse, you’ll find that you can be charged as well, and your vampire will be taken by force.” The man chuckled, pulling out a roll of parchment. “You won’t need retraining of course- but a trial in front of the council, and potential reprimands as are deemed fit.” 

Marlowe snatched the parchment from the man, and stepped in between him and Solomon, unfurling it to see the official document. They scanned through to find what they were looking for:

The following crimes have been provided with proper evidence for this conviction: Improper and immoral cohabitation, and beguiling and seducing it’s owner through illegal toxins. Due to the nature of these crimes, the vampire known as “Solomon,” has been sentenced to the minimum one month (30 days) of retraining.  If the minimum sentence is deemed inadequate towards the vampire’s retraining, further time may be required until it is declared fit to reenter society and rejoin it’s owner’s possession.  This contract states that the owner known as Marlowe, is temporarily signing over possession of their vampire for this retraining period. The owner acknowledges that the retraining facility be allowed to use whatever methods they deem fit to complete the vampire’s retraining, and that the facility will not be held responsible for any damages or injuries inflicted upon the vampire during it’s sentence. 

“We understand your confusion Marlowe, it’s a shame what this vampire has done to you.” Ivan stated, stepping forward. The man towered over Lo, and he peered down at them, a patronizing tone to his voice. “I’m sure once it is out of your home, it will no longer be able to spread it’s poison inside of you- and you’ll be free to think clearly once more.”

Lo shook their head, hands shaking as they gripped the parchment tighter, reading and re-reading those words over and over again. 

30 days of retraining. 

They were going to take Solomon away- they were going to take him- Lo’s darling- their love- their vampire. 

Solomon was Marlowe’s. These men couldn’t take him- Lo couldn’t let them.

“There must be- there must be some mistake. What evidence? What proof do you have of this?” 

“As of now, we have a witness that will remain anonymous. I’m telling you Marlowe, it’s a good thing it was reported when it was. Who knows how much longer you’d have been kept under it’s influence if we hadn’t intervened? If it’s been cooking your meals like we were informed then it’s poison is probably deeply ingrained in your system. Now, if you’ll step aside with me we can finalize the details while my men load it into the wagon. Come now, we don’t want to make this harder than it is.”

Lo glanced back at Solomon- there was a look of fire in his eyes- he met Lo’s gaze and his eyes softened- filled with fear, instead. Lo didn’t know what to do- there were too many of them to fight, they were surrounded. But Lo felt they would break in two if they were to drag him away. 

“Please,” Lo begged. “I’m sure we can come to some sort of understanding? Is this, retraining, really necessary?” 

“It seems you are still under it’s influence. I’ll tell you once, Marlowe, this is the law. You agreed to it when you settled into our village. If you refuse to hand it over, we are allowed to take it by force, but it will become property of the village. If you hand it over willingly, it will be returned to you at the end of it’s retraining. The choice is up to you.”

Marlowe’s panic began to rise, but they could feel Sol’s presence behind them. Lo turned around to see the vampire- looking down at them, holding back the tears in his eyes. Their eyes met for a moment before Sol was being grabbed. 

The two men behind him grabbed his arms, wrenching the kitchen knife out of his grip and holding him tight. Ivan grabbed Lo by the arm and held them back as the other two men by the front door surrounded Solomon on the other side. 

He was quickly thrown facedown on the ground, one of the men pinning his legs down, the other two holding his shoulders and pulling his arms behind his back. Marlowe bit back a scream of protest as Ivan held them tighter against his chest. They were going to take him anyway. There was nothing Lo could do. 

The final man withdrew a needle and a vial, quickly injecting it into Solomon’s neck. At that moment he screamed- thrashing against the grip of the men on top of him as he finally fought back, trying to throw them off. Even with his natural strength, it was still four against one- he was vastly outnumbered. 

Lo had lost all resolve. They were sobbing, crying and begging for them to stop as Sol’s body grew limp- the drug they had injected quickly taking hold. Solomon barely met Lo’s eyes- a whispered apology on his lips before he succumbed fully to unconsciousness. 

“Take it away. Marlowe and I need to have a chat.” 

The men grabbed Solomon, dragging his limp body out into the darkness, slamming the door behind them.

Ivan released his grip on Lo and they crashed to the floor, collapsing in a heap of sobs. 

“Now listen, Marlowe-” Ivan demanded. He bent down on a knee and placed a hand on Lo’s shoulder as they look into his eyes. “-you and I both know that you’re under no influence of any poisons. Everything we were told about you and that vampire was of your own free will. But the town council can’t have that story going around, so we had to bend the truth now, didn’t we? After all, you know what the gossip here is like. Word spreads fast.” 

Lo choked back a sob, shoving Ivan in the chest as they backed away. “You didn’t- you didn’t even let me say goodbye!” 

“Oh don’t worry, you’ll get to see your precious toy again- if you just sign the contract, it’ll be all yours once the 30 days has past. But Marlowe-” Ivan gripped Lo’s chin tightly, forcing them to meet his gaze as he leaned in close. “-if you refuse to sign, and if your dear Solomon gives me any issues at all while we’re working on it, I’ll make sure it’s time in there is a lot longer than it needs to be, understand?” 

Ivan held out the contract and a pen, placing it in Lo’s hand. 

With a sob Lo reluctantly signed the parchment, throwing the pen back at Ivan as he stood up and walked towards the door. 

“Don’t worry Marlowe,” he taunted, rolling up the parchment and tucking it back in his cloak. “Your little toy will be all shiny and new when we’re finished with it.” 

Lo collapsed back into the floor as Ivan walked away, the sound of the wagon rolling away from their house off into the distance. 

Their house was supposed to be safe. They were supposed to be able to be themselves here, to be free to hold each other, to love- to live. And now they’d been ripped apart. 

A piece of Lo had been ripped out of their chest and dragged away. There was a gaping hole, an emptiness full of pain that threatened to consume them. 

Marlowe lay there on the floor, shaking and sobbing all night long. There was no way they could go on, no way they could continue until their heart was returned. 

If it would be returned at all.

-

Tag List: @imagination1reality0 @thecyrulik @whumpsday @termsnconditions-apply @spectral-whumpy-writer @raddyscoops

[split-spectrum]

Water and Rock

Interlude

Pairing: Obi Wan × FemReader

Warnings: None

Length: 1K (A Short Preview)

Spoilers below the cut...

☆☆☆

I wanted to show some appreciation for everyone who's been so kindly and patiently waiting for chapter ten, so here's an (early) WIP Wednesday bit.

This chapter is longer than the others, and I'm admittedly less comfortable with the technical aspects of spacey things so I'm very, very grateful people have been so nice about the long wait while I edit down 9K words, which I initially thought of splitting into two chapters, but eventually realized flows better as one.

I hope to have it posted very soon (this week-ish) and in the meantime, I'd like to share the first 1K in gratitude for those who have stuck through the wait.

Thank you again!

--

Several years ago, in the gardens of the Jedi temple on Coruscant...

"Please, Master. Be honest."

His eyes seem to snap back into focus when the tone of your voice goes up at the end of the question. He'd been looking at you, you realize, and you don't know for how long. The way he resets his posture before answering, he'd almost seemed... uncomfortable? On edge? You can't quite place it. Perhaps, you think, he senses your uncertainty. Your weakness.

With each second that passes before he responds, your anxiety increases. He shifts on the bench, sliding his gaze to the foliage in front of him, a whisper of a smile on his face.

"Often I am told," he says softly, "that these final days before one's padawan completes the trials are celebratory. Peaceful and reflective..."

You widen your eyes a bit and tilt your head, expectant - knowing he's feeling the tension of you staring at him without needing to look in your direction. But he does, eventually, turn to face you, dropping the act of the put-upon master.

"The council believes you are ready. They would not have asked you otherwise."

"That's not what I asked."

He holds your gaze. "I know you will pass. I have every confidence in your abilities."

You break eye contact. "Thank you. But that's not exactly what I asked, either."

He gives you a wry look. "Then perhaps you could clarify precisely what question I'm answering?"

You're tugging a loose thread at the end of your sleeve, hands in your lap. "Do you truly believe I'm ready?"

He doesn't answer right away. Your fingers still, stopping their fidgeting when you force yourself to look at him again. "Is it not normally the master who approaches the council when a padawan is ready for the trials? Isn't it unusual for the council to make a request like this?"

His brows raise in acknowledgement, and he nods slightly. "It is indeed unusual. But these are unusual times. And you possess a unique gift. The council does not make these decisions lightly."

"You still haven't answered my question."

The corners of his bearded mouth tip up into a melancholy smile. "Whether I believe you will pass or that you are ready may be two different questions, but my answer changes nothing. As Jedi, we have a responsibility to protect life and serve the Republic. You have been called upon, and if you are capable, you must answer." His expression becomes more sincere. "And you are capable."

You try to mirror his smile, but your stomach is upside down. "I understand."

You watch another pair of Jedi as they stroll through the greenery in the distance, seeming to take much more pleasure in their surroundings than you presently are. Silence hangs between the two of you, and it's a kind of silence that's never been there before. You're on the precipice of something, and it's not just the trials. Something about him in this moment is different. It's in the way he's looking at you; the way he hesitates before answering. He's not just thoughtful, or pensive. It's something else.

But then, something has changed in you, too - ever since the council shared those fated words.

You venture another question, your voice even quieter this time.

"Once I'm... no longer your padawan," you begin haltingly, "is it still permitted for me to seek your guidance, if I need it?"

As you tense your shoulders in anticipation of his answer, he just offers another smile. "You have my guidance whenever you are in need of it."

His words might have brought you comfort, if he'd left it at that. But he goes on.

"Even if I were to fall in battle tomorrow, the lessons I have passed on will always remain, as a part of you." He places a hand very gently at the side of your shoulder. "The teachings of generations of Jedi are within you. You need only ask for guidance, and you shall always have it."

He's rarely this affectionate, and it forces the rest of your words to stay wrapped up tightly inside you. It seems ungrateful, now, to ask whether you can still bother him for tea and meditation.

You bite back the question you'd really wanted to ask - the one that had been on your mind ever since your first discussion of the trials: Would you still be a team, even when things were different?

You pull your mouth into a tight smile that lacks the proper strength. All you can do now is nod.

Then, you do as he's always instructed - as you always have - and reach out into the force, releasing your feelings.

"Thank you, Master. You're right. I am ready."

--

Several years later, approaching the Separatist outpost on Asar-2...

"Are you alright?" Obi Wan asks after your second sigh permeates the silence in the cockpit.

The closer you get, the more reality is setting in, and you're struggling to hide it. Your initial thought is to lie, but it occurs to you that you're both in too far at this point to turn back. You tell the truth.

"I'm nervous."

A beat passes. He flips a couple of switches and you can't be sure whether he's silent in response to your answer, or just because he's concentrating on flying the ship. You squirm, just slightly, but enough for Obi Wan's muscles to stiffen. Yet again you have to remind yourself to stay still, and more words tumble out of you.

"The time pressure, and what's at stake... If we don't..."

"Commander," he interrupts you softly. "You have made your decision. Now you must be at peace with it."

This silences you. He's correct, as he usually is. And after this morning's heated discussion regarding your part in the mission, you can't have expected him to comfort you.

But he does anyway.

"There is no emotion; there is peace," he reminds you, his voice decidedly calm and even.

All at once, everything - the noise in your head, your buzzing nerves, the tense air that surrounds you - all of it begins to fade. The familiar mantra leaves your lips in answer to him. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge..."

You finish the lines, and he helps you, murmuring the words just behind yours, as he moves a gloved hand here and there to keep the ship on course.

"There is no death," you complete the last line slowly. "Only the force."

There is no death...

"We'll be landing in a moment. Remember, we approach from the West - landing South and coming over that ridge, there." He gestures through the windshield and your eyes follow. "You'll need to deactivate the lateral thrusters for me. I can't reach them with you sitting like this."

He points again, to a switch just above your knee. You lean forward. "Alright. Just tell me when."

His breath is shortened, his voice strained when he answers. "Thirty more seconds."

...

--

More to come soon!

Tag List: @cosmicsierra @projectdreamwalker @guacam011y @thriving-n-jiving @reverieisaway @cursedfaechild @honeymoon7770 @hedvighedvig @cool-ontherun-world @ladytano420

[e1igius]

he is born of ash , led to believe nothing more than the stories bestowed upon him by high masters of the republic. born on the outer rim to a couple or ranchers , there wasn't much of a life awaiting him out there. even as an infant the boy showed an affinity for the force , a raging sense of kindness , that led him to the trees and small bits of knowledge that should have been left unknown. the family had little means as it was , and when a couple of men in robes from coruscant came knocking it was an easy decision for the family. he's sent away to train and learn at an age no older than two rotations. accepted with open arms , the boy is born and bred a jedi. as a youngling the boy shows high aptitude with a laser sword , but his control of the force leaves much to be desired. pushing through inadequacy with sheer force and perseverance. he leads with kindness , and a fevered desire for justice , the likes of which manage to hide notes of danger that would likely have set his training back until the boy had gained a more mature understanding of the force. and yet , he's picked up as a padawan likely before he's ready.

a natural affinity for violence has him playing with nova corps as a young teen , partnered with a jedi knight placed on the front lines , the boy was more violence than training , a requirement as part of their assignment under jedi master ki-adi-mundi , while the knight's heavy focus of the boy's training on survival and violence was never brought to question , the boy could remember on occasion his master being brought in by general ki-adi-mundi and being scolded for failing to focus on books of jedi history & sensitivity to the force. he comes of age in battle. and as it rages on , as he loses mentors and friends to enemy fire , the list of grievances against the high council and the jedi order grows exponentially. and when his master eventually fell in battle. the padawan was left with only the clones and the supreme chancellor as comfort , where the jedi were willing to leave his master's body to rot on some obscure planet it was the clones who brought him home and the chancellor who allowed him a proper burial.

huckleberry demands the trials. rather than be placed under another jedi knight. it takes little convincing , the boy is a marine through and through. and while the skills necessary to survive them by anger and war and emerges a jedi knight out of grit more than understanding. and yet jedi knight nonetheless and at the young age of nineteen. the blonde's distaste for the war builds inside of him , a silent rage at the masacre of troops , friends and allies. hate for the separatists builds , and while he is told to meditate by peers , the chancellor's understanding of his situation often has him siding with and spending time with the man when he's returned to home planet from whatever mission is next. the lack of a father figure as him finding it in a man that whispers tales of the enemy. of how the dark side isn't bad. of how , if he were to join him , they could get rid of the jedi order , or the blindness that came from it... and rebuild the world anew.

it does not take years , nor weeks , for the young man to agree. falling into an understanding that the world had to begin a new. order 66 brings light this new order , a death to the corruption , and the beginning of a far more just existence. and huckleberry , well a part of the first round of inqusitorious. he is then trained under lord vader , to gain a better understanding of the dark side of the force. his left eye is taken from him during the training , a lesson of loss. he learns to be more offensive , more aggressive , and the hesitation that once came with using the force has given way to sheer desire and the force flows through him more naturally on this side. he has much to learn and realizes this shortly after meeting the others. realizing that he is lacking in so much of what makes the others stronger than he. the boy doesn't change bleed his crystal , finding it much more exhilarating to find and hunt jedi with the blue blade and was often nicknamed blue due to the refrain from bleeding the crystal. huckleberry , while having a primary motive , also wished to preserve the lightsaber in its original form as an ode to his fallen master.

the young man grows fond of purge troopers , and after the likeness is discovered , is often deployed with them on missions to eradicate the remaining jedi. during one of these missions , a jedi knight , once friends with his deceased master stops him , pleading with him to return to the light. the internal battle the conversation leads to results in surface cracks on the kyber crystal in his blade as it fights huckleberry's desire to bleed it immediately after , while he gives up on the endeavor before cracking the crystal through the surface cracks result in an occasional instability of the blue blade ( though a rare occurrence ) when the strength of the force is high within him.

small notes : the clone wars is technically only three years long , huck's with the nova corps from age 15-19. he pretty much becomes a knight at the end of the war and jumps straight into imperial status. huckleberry should not have been advanced to knight when he was , he was not ready , and the lack of a master directly results in him falling for the dark side. he is part of the original group of inqusitors , noted not tortured but so-called corrupted. bio is super rough expect adjustments over time.

[flibbertyjibbett]

people judge the jedi so much more harshly, for good or bad, because of the standards they themselves and everyone else hold them to. when really their flaws are a whole hell of a lot less flawed than the average individual’s. especially my guy qui gon. he is almost universally vilified in fandom for taking anakin out of slavery and blamed for not somehow divining his own death so that that he could secure shmis freedom. i understand the draw of having a lightning rod character that all your readers can despise, but i like qui gon and this means there arent a lot of fics with him in that arent bashing him or qui/obi (ill read it sometimes but not my cup of tea).

and how his relationship with obi wan is treated….legends is probably responsible for a good bit of the angst between them in fanfic. but, obiwan didnt tear his hair and curse qui gons name for bringing up his knighting in front of the council. nor does he sulk about it, obi wan tells the council that he is ready for his trials. hes 25! even if anakins knighting was rushed bc of the war, obi wan had several years on him…he was ready. quis last words to obi are angsty enough, no need to fabricate enmity out of thin air.

anyway mostly i just want to say write more qui positive fics. i mean he did practically raise obi wan, and obi wan is awesome. and maybe this will give me the motivation to finally start the one ricocheting around in my head

The Jedi are flawed. Obi-Wan has an entire movie when he's 25 where he's a snarky asshole sometimes, he hurts his friends sometimes. Qui-Gon is hypocritical in that he says, oh, I don't presume anything when he very much is presuming things and also treats his current Padawan roughly in favor of a new one. Jocasta is a little full of herself and her archive. Ahsoka takes 30+ years to get her shit together about what Anakin did, she routinely snaps at people for things that aren't their fault. Mace has a tense day and is brusque about it. Shaak doesn't immediately believe Fives. Kit can't get through to Nahdar about how he's handling the war. These are all flaws! They come from incredibly sympathetic places and I bet half of you are thinking of reasons why these actions aren't so bad, hell I've written essays in the past about why these are sympathetic places to be coming from, that it's entirely understandable why they act why they do! That's not the point I'm making here. The point is: they're still flaws and they make for more interesting characters, but that I don't believe they should be condemned for them. So many times "flawed" is meant as the same thing as "so we must think they're corrupt, arrogant people who everyone should be shaking their finger at" (often with a side bonus of "and that's why they fell" as if you can separate out that Sidious was going for genocide from the beginning, as if that wasn't always the shape of the story we're seeing). So many times, "You just can't admit your faves are flawed." When, no, I think the Jedi are flawed like I think Luke is flawed, like Leia is flawed, like Han is flawed, like Padme is flawed, like Bail is flawed. They all get to make mistakes, to miss things, to stumble, to have a frustrating day, to snap at someone out of turn, etc. I just don't think those flaws are worthy of condemnation and I don't think the Jedi's flaws are worthy of condemnation either.